


I Can Feel the Draw

by thoughtlessblogger



Series: The Draw [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Smut, Betrayal, Blow Jobs, Businessman Harry, Conman Louis, Death Threats, Deception, Drunkenness, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gunshot Wounds, Horse Racing, M/M, Minor Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Louis, Penetration, Pining Harry, Pining Louis, Poison, Robbery, Sad Ending, Smut, Torture, Violence, art stuff, con-men, death attempts, lying, niall bets, well only sorta they go to the kentucky derby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:03:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 113,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3767464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtlessblogger/pseuds/thoughtlessblogger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis, not having pulled a job in a while, is convinced to help con millionaire art collector Harry Styles. To do so, Louis has to keep Harry safe. It should be easy, but Louis finds himself possibly falling in love with him, which compromises himself and the others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, okay. So, this is the first WIP I've done. I've got the first couple of chapters written and I'm not sure how long this will be, but I wanted to go ahead and start posting so I'd have more motivation to finish it. Also, the semester is almost over meaning finals are coming up in a couple of weeks, so I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, but it's already written so hopefully I can post two Fridays from now.  
> Moving on to the actual story. I know nothing about the majority of the stuff I'm writing about in this thing, so please know there will be inaccuracies. Also, this isn't beta'd, so all mistakes are my own.  
>  **Important** The tags are important. There will be violence on-screen and off. I've went ahead and included all the tags I think will be needed even though not all of them apply to every chapter. But it is important you pay attention to them and I will be adding more as the story progresses, so read at your own risk. Also, this won't have a happy ending.  
>  I suck at titling and this one is taken from Bastille's “The Draw”.  
> Anyway, thanks for reading and if you want to chat I'm on tumblr at [thoughtlessblogger](http://www.thoughtlessblogger.tumblr.com)

“Let me ask you something.”

Louis sighs deeply, rolling his eyes. “Whatever it is, I'm sure I had nothing to do with it.”

“Or everything,” Liam adds, following Zayn into the room.

He tries recalling what it is he's done since he last saw Zayn and Liam. It's not much. In fact, it isn't anything at all. He's been on holiday, as it were. He's not pulled a job in months. There's been nothing to peek his interest, so he's been lounging at home, occasionally taking a walk through the park or something as equally boring so he can at least get out of the flat. 

It's been the most boring three months of his life and he's itching to get back out there. He almost wishes he had actually done something for them to be angry about because it means he would've actually been _doing_ something.

“Believe it or not,” Zayn continues, dropping down to the sofa. “It's not that kind of something.”

Liam frowns. “Damn. I wanted him to be in trouble.”

Louis scoffs, bringing a hand up to his chest. “I'll have you know, Liam, that I'm perfectly capable of doing things and not landing myself in trouble.”

Liam, who's made his way to the armchair across from him, raises an eyebrow. “Sao Paulo.”

Fuck. He'd forgotten about that. 

It was supposed to be a simple job. Con his way into the most successful business in Brazil, find where the money was kept, that kind of easy thing. It _should have_ been easy. Unfortunately, he'd had a bit of a fling with the CEO's secretary that he'd tried to pass off as a work thing. 

The guy – Felipe, if Louis remembers correctly – had overheard Louis on the phone with Liam asking if he'd send Louis a copy of some fake form or something. Needless to say he'd ended up nearly being indicted. It was only Liam dropping everything he'd been doing at the time and coming to save his arse that he's not sitting in a Brazilian prison right now.

And the time he had spent in the prison had not been fun. He probably wouldn't have lasted much longer in there. It's not something he likes thinking about.

He never did thank Liam properly for that. He doesn't plan on it.

“I had a plan,” he lies.

“Bullshit you had a plan,” Liam says with a small grin.

Zayn clears his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, lads, but I do have a small matter I'd like to discuss.”

“Thought you had a question.”

Zayn grabs a throw pillow, chucking it at him. He catches it, but just barely, knocking over his tea in the process. He gives it a forlorn look.

“I wasn't finished with that,” he pouts.

Zayn smirks, but doesn't apologize.

“You should clean that up before it stains the carpet,” Liam suggests, eying how the white carpet is already changing color.

“The maid can fix it,” he shrugs.

“What if she can't?”

“I'll buy new carpet.”

Zayn sits up. “Can we get down to business now?”

“Be my guest.”

Zayn grabs his bag that he'd dropped next to the sofa, pulling out a manila folder. He sets the folder on the coffee table, but doesn't open it.

“We need to find Niall.”

Louis blinks slowly, while Liam tilts his head, narrowing his eyes.

“I know he said he was gonna lay low for a while,” he continues, “but I've got a big job I want to do and I'm going to need all three of you.”

“You want the four of us to work together again?” Liam asks, skeptically.

Louis has to admit he's a bit surprised as well. They do work well together. Splendidly, actually, but the jobs were always easy jobs that could have been done with just one of them. It always ended up being more work than normal because they had four people to work with, meaning four people that could be caught at any moment. It was more worrisome than anything. That's why the four of them stopped working together all at once.

Not to mention, Niall's taken a leave of absence since he got shot in the knee around a year ago when he was in Shanghai. He said he'd needed proper rehabilitation and all. (Personally, Louis's glad he's taken the time off for his knee. For the five years Louis's known him prior to the gun shot he's always complained about the knee hurting, but wouldn't do anything about it.)

“It's a big job,” Zayn confirms. “And we need Niall.”

“Care to share what the job is first?” Louis asks, sitting forward, placing his arms on his knees. “Need details, mate.”

“When we get Niall you'll get them.”

“Okay.”

Louis trusts Zayn more than anyone in the world – has actually trusted him with his life – so he's not too concerned to know the details immediately. Liam on the other hand looks worried.

“Oh come on, Payno. You know Zayn's a weird one. Probably doesn't want to risk you talking him out of doing this.”

Liam's brow furrows. “Why would I do that?”

“It's a damn big job,” Zayn answers. “But that's not why. I would just rather wait for Niall so I don't have to repeat the information.”

Liam thinks it over for all of a second before nodding.

“So, would you happen to know where our little Irish friend is?”

Zayn turns to him. “No.”

“No?”

“No. He wasn't kidding when he said he was gonna lay low.”

“What's in the folder?” Liam asks, nodding to it.

Zayn smiles, widely at Liam. “Glad you asked.” He opens the folder, spreading out several sheets of paper. “When I said I didn't know where Niall is, I was both lying and telling the truth.”

“Oh Jesus,” Louis mutters, earning a quiet chuckle from Liam.

Zayn doesn't acknowledge either one of them. “I know his last known location was Montreal,” he says, pointing to a picture Louis can only see from the side. It certainly looks like Niall. He doesn't get a chance to look any further before Zayn's moving on. “So, from that I checked all his known aliases.”

“Did he make a new one?” Liam inquires.

“I thought he might've,” Zayn answers. “He didn't. He used Kieran Guinness.”

“So stereotypical,” Louis snorts.

“Yes, well you know how proud to be Irish he is.”

Louis hums in agreement. 

“Anyway, Kieran bought a plan ticket to Louisville, Kentucky two weeks ago.”

“Louisville?”

“Where the hell is that?” Liam asks.

“Kentucky,” he retorts with a smile.

“Thank you, Louis,” Liam replies, dryly. 

“It's in America,” Zayn sighs. 

“Why's he there, though,” Louis questions, turning back to Zayn. “Never been myself, but it doesn't seem like the place he'd go.”

“Well, it's the horse racing capital of the world, innit?” Liam supplies.

Louis just stares at him. How Liam knew Louisville was the horse racing capital but didn't know where it was is almost laughable.

“Even the queen goes sometimes,” he continues.

“Yeah, 'cause I make it my business to know where the queen goes for fun.”

“The Kentucky Derby,” Zayn speaks up. “You know Niall loves himself a bit of horse racing.”

“Never been too into it.”

“Yes, well Niall is.” Zayn grabs another sheet of paper. “The Derby is in three days. May second. That's Saturday,” he adds.

“I know that.”

“I figure it'll take us the whole time to find him once we get there. Might as well just wait to find him until the actual race.”

“Oh I just thought of something.”

Zayn and Louis both turn their attention Liam.

“People bet on this. We could-.”

“No,” Zayn says firmly. “If Niall gets even a tiny bit spooked because he hears of a job being pulled – and you know he will – he'll take off. His love of horse racing be damned.”

Liam's smile falters. “Fine. Just a thought.”

“We'll need to leave as soon as possible. I've not been to Louisville. I won't know my way around as well I'd like.”

“Well, I'm in,” Louis says standing up. “I'll need to go pack.”

“Oh yes,” Liam agrees. “Zayn what kind of weather do they have in Louisville?”

Zayn gives Liam a look of utter boredom. “Something similar to us, I'd imagine. But if you're that concerned about it, look it up online. Or make friends with a meteorologist.”

“When and where are we leaving from?” Louis asks, cutting Liam's retort off.

“Heathrow. Flight leaves at eleven tonight.”

“Where are we flying into?”

“JFK. There weren't any direct flights from here to Louisville, so we'll get a flight to Louisville's airport from there.”

“We'll meet here?”

“Yup.”

“See ya then.”

Thank god for Zayn. It's been so long since he's done a job, he was starting to feel a bit rusty and that's never good in this profession. And it's been so long since he's seen Niall, been even longer since they've all been together. 

This is going to be great. He can feel it.

Louis turns on his heel, walking down the hall, the sound of Liam and Zayn bickering quietening as he goes and the excitement of a new job pulsing through his body.

**

“All I'm saying-.”

“It's not all you're saying, Lou,” Zayn sighs, setting his bag down when they reach the check-in desk.

“It's an odd sort of place, is all,” Louis finishes, earning a glare from the petite woman behind the counter.

Zayn turns to him. “Art, Louis. Art.”

Louis glances up at the stone statutes of naked children placed behind the counter. “You call it art. I call it creepy,” he mumbles. “Also, what's the deal with the red penguins?”

The woman behind the desk clears her throat. “May I help you, gentlemen?”

Zayn shoots Louis a look, before turning to the woman. “Yes, I called earlier about reserving some rooms for me and my business associates.”

Louis snorts, earning a glare from Zayn.

“And what was the name, sir?”

“Nadeem Hanif.”

Louis barely catches the woman's displeasure as she starts typing the name in. 

“You know,” he starts, leaning on the counter. “He's a very nice, very rich man.”

“Louis,” Zayn hisses under his breath.

“I wouldn't judge him by his name. He's got the power to put this place under.”

“Fuck,” he hears Zayn mutter as face-palms.

The woman has an unreadable expression when she responds. “Of course, sir.”

“Could you excuse us for a moment,” Zayn asks the woman with a smile. When she nods, he grabs Louis by the arm, pulling him toward the door. “What the hell was that?” Before he has a chance to answer, Zayn continues. “You saw she was uncomfortable with the name and you thought threatening her was the way to go?”

Well, fuck.

It's not what he was aiming to do, but he can see how she would take it that way. 

“Didn't think that through,” he admits, quietly, ducking his head.

“Let me do the talking, yeah?”

Louis nods and follows Zayn back.

When they get back the woman looks up. “Mr. Hanif, it says here you called for three.”

Right on cue, Liam comes jogging up to them, bag hanging off his shoulder. 

“I've been dealing with American money for years now and I still don't get it,” he says. “Thought the cabbie was going to hit me.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. When he turns back to the woman, he says, “Yes, three.”

She starts typing again. Zayn grabs a pen off the counter, twirling it in his fingers.

Liam's glancing around the lobby, eying the red penguins and bits of art hanging on the walls. “Bit odd,” he comments, leaning toward Louis.

“Don't,” he warns. “Been there. Not a good idea.”

Liam gives him a curious glance, but drops it.

“And how long will you be staying?”

“As long as we need to,” Zayn answers. “We'll pay extra if that's a problem.”

She considers it for a moment. Louis's sure she wants to say no, she seems the type, but she nods.

“I'm afraid we only have two balconies available. The other room will have to be a corner suite.”

“That's fine. I'll take the corner suite. Not a problem.”

The woman gets up without another word and walks into what Louis assumes is the office.

“So,” Louis starts, turning to lean against the counter. “Say we do find Niall, will we have to wait until we get back to England for you to tell us this plan of yours or do we get to know before?”

“You'll know when you know, Louis.”

Louis purses his lips.

He hates when Zayn's cryptic. It either means something exceptional or something only Zayn's interested in. For their sakes he hopes it's the former.

“Here are your keys,” the woman says, returning. She hands them to Zayn, who gives her a tight nod. “Enjoy your stay here at Twenty-one Century Museum Hotel.”

“Thank you,” Zayn mumbles. 

He hands Louis and Liam their keys, pockets his and pulls out his cigarettes.

“Before we leave I want to check out the actual museum,” he says, lighting his cigarette.

“Excuse me, sir. You can't smoke in here,” the woman at the counter says. “We have a strict no smoking policy. We charge $250 a night if-.”

Zayn pulls out a wad of cash and sets it on the counter.

The woman's eyes widen, but she quickly regains her composure. “Enjoy your stay, sir,” she says, slowly grabbing the money.

“I will.”

They grab their bags, moving toward the lift. Louis hits the button, then takes notice of the wall.

“What the hell is that?” he asks, tilting his head, watching letters fall from the top.

“Text Rain,” Zayn answers. “It's an interactive thing. Look.” 

Zayn holds out an arm, stopping the letters from falling. The letters are gathering on his arm.

“Sick,” Liam says, sticking his own arm out.

“You can lift, catch and play with the falling letters,” Zayn explains. “It's art. If I remember correctly it's Camille Utterback.”

“No idea who that is.”

Zayn drops his arm. “I didn't expect you to, Louis.”

Louis sighs. “Any other wisdom you care to share?”

Zayn lights up at that. “Yes, actually.” 

The lift doors open with a ding, an elderly man stepping off.

“This building was actually a series of 19th-century warehouses,” Zayn continues once they're on the lift. “Obviously, it's been converted into a hotel. All the art here is from the Museum.”

“Interesting,” Louis comments. 

“I need a shower. I suggest,” Liam begins, as the lift stops, doors opening to the hall. “That we settle in and reconvene in about an hour.”

“My room?” 

“Yup.”

“I'm not sure my room is on this floor,” Zayn comments, sticking his bag through the lift doors, stopping it from closing. “Think I'll have a look downstairs.”

He doesn't wait for them to answer before he's stepping back onto the lift.

When the doors have closed, Liam turns to Louis. “This job he's planning better be worth this trip.”

“Tell me about it. He can spring for a $500 a night hotel, but can't get us a private flight. I was about to throw that kid off the plane.”

“He wasn't that bad, Lou.”

“He was screaming in my ear! And pulling my hair, Liam! How was that not that bad?”

Liam sighs. “I'm going to my room.”

He turns, leaving Louis to search for his room.

**

“Is he still using Kieran Guinness?” Louis asks, as they step out of the Rolls-Royce he'd procured yesterday.

“As far as I know,” Zayn answers, shutting his door.

Liam has already walked toward the gate. They'd agree they'd split up once here. One, to cover more ground. Two, Liam was afraid they'd draw to much attention to themselves. (Louis didn't agree, arguing that three blokes running around on their own would draw more attention, but Liam was having none of it.)

“I'm going to check the betting windows,” Louis tells Zayn.

“You planning on betting yourself?”

“I should. I spent enough time yesterday studying the horses and all that shit to try to get into Niall's head.”

Zayn sighs, but doesn't comment. “Liam's checking the seats and clubhouses, right?”

“Yup.”

“Alright. I'll check the cafe, museum, and gift shop.”

“Right.”

“Remember to call if you find him.”

Then Zayn is gone, weaving his way through the crowd toward the gate.

Louis waits for a bit, watching the women hold on to their hats every time the wind blows, which seems to be every couple of seconds. Their dresses are being blown around by the wind, several of which have shown Louis far more than he wanted to see. The men are in suits and ties that make them look like they should be in an office or at a funeral. They look out of place. It's a funny sight. He's not entirely sure why people are required to dress up for a horse race.

When Liam had shown him the dress code last night Louis had almost decided to not come today, but Zayn had given him a look over Liam's shoulder, so he'd bit his tongue.

He's kind of glad he did, though. 

It's all utterly ridiculous. Thinking on it now, it's probably something to do with the wealthy elitism Zayn always likes to ramble about when he's had too much to drink or smoke. Louis always reminds him that Zayn has more than enough money to buy whatever place they happen to be at at the time, but he still gets Zayn's point.

Once he's had enough of crowd watching he makes his way through the gate with ease – thank you Liam for the wonderfully deceitful ticket – and struts toward the betting windows.

Louis learned a long time ago that when in a place you shouldn't be or doing something you shouldn't be doing, confidence is the key. The majority of the time if you act confident, no one notices you or asks questions. So he struts through the place like he's own it.

The area by the betting windows is full of people in suits with money and drinks in hand. Louis's never been to a horse race before and he wonders if everyone of them is like this. He reckons not, since Liam had gone on a two hour rant last night about the Kentucky Derby and how important it was to the horse racing industry. Louis only half-way paid attention, but he is kind of curious to witness the “fastest two minutes in sports”.

He finds a place against the wall that allows him to see the whole room where he can look for Niall. He hates this part of the job. Looking back on it he should've let Zayn or Liam do this. He has a hard time with the surveillance part of the job. Not that this would classify as surveillance, but he still has to stay in the spot and wait. He's not good at this.

Luckily he's not left waiting for long. He hears Niall before he sees him.

“Five hundred on four,” says the disembodied Irish voice.

Louis turns his attention to the left, seeing the back of Niall's familiar head. 

Smiling to himself, Louis watches as Niall hands the money over and receives his receipt. Niall moves away, making his way toward the grandstand. Louis quickly pulls out his phone, sending a quick group text to Liam and Zayn saying he's found Niall. Liam's reply that he's got them an area in a suite comes almost instantly. 

He pockets his phone and starts following after Niall. Louis has to jog a bit, but he finally catches up.

He quickly racks his brain for the information about the horse Niall's just bet on.

“Carpe Diem?” he says, causing Niall to stop walking. “An Irish descendent? Really, Niall?”

Niall turns, lips pursed. “What are you doin' here, Louis?”

“Zayn.” Niall opens his mouth, but Louis cuts him off, grabbing Niall's elbow as he passes. “Come on, Liam's got us a box or summat. You know, I don't understand this shit.”

“It's the Derby, Louis,” Niall says, following him. “It's a big deal.”

“Yeah, for people who understand horse racing, which I don't.”

“Why are you three here?”

Louis lowers his voice. “Zayn's got a job. Apparently, all four of us are needed. He won't give us the details 'til we're all together.”

Niall doesn't respond. Louis's not even sure he's heard him, but they continue on, snaking their way through the groups of people having drinks and gossiping.

**

“You fuckers want to tell me why you're here?” Niall asks when they spot Zayn and Liam through the small crowd, earning a glare from a middle-aged woman.

“Zayn's got a job,” Liam answers, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“So Lou said. But why are you here?”

“He says we need you for it. God knows why.” Louis pinches Niall's right nipple through his shirt. 

Niall doesn't react to it. Instead, he turns to an unamused looking Zayn. “Why do you need me?”

“How's your knee?” Zayn asks in lieu of an answer.

“It's fine now. Still hurts like hell sometimes, but we're not talking about that. We're going to talk about this job.”

Zayn shakes his head. “No we're not. Not here.”

“Do you know what time they close the betting windows?” Liam asks, pocketing his phone. “I just did a quick bit of researching. I want to get in on the action.”

“What in the hell do you know about horse racing?” Louis inquires. 

“I hear Carpe Diem is a good pick.”

Niall whoops loudly, earning a glare from the woman from before. “Good pick, mate. I'll go with you. Might try to place another bet.”

“Can you do that?”

“Well, Kieran Guinness may not be able to, but I've got a few others who might be.”

With that Niall's walking off, a smiling Liam trailing after him.

Zayn's leaning against the balcony rail that overlooks the track. He looks like he's contemplating life. At least that's what most people would think. Louis knows him well enough to know he just wants to smoke.

Louis leans next to him, dropping his voice. “When are you going to tell us about this job?”

“When I tell you. Stop being so impatient.”

“Just asking for some details.”

“You'll get them. Just don't want the wrong people to overhear.”

“Who's going to overhear?” he asks, glancing behind him. “Nobody here knows who we are. And even if they did-.”

“People keep staring at me,” Zayn says quietly. “I don't like it.”

Yeah, Louis's noticed. The past two days anytime they've went anywhere people carefully watch Zayn. Louis knows why and it's definitely something Zayn's dealt with most of his life. But Louis knows enough to know that it always bothers Zayn more when he can't retreat back into his home and hideaway. In those instances, though, when he can't, Zayn walks with his head held high and with an air of confidence Louis could only hope to have.

“Well, you know when I first met you I didn't stop staring either. Very godlike, you are. Not bad on the eyes, you know,” he quips, trying to lighten the mood. “'course, then I got to know you. You drool like everyone else.”

Zayn's brow furrows. “I do not drool.”

“You do.”

Zayn gives a noncommittal hum, but doesn't say anything else.

“Do you think Niall's horse is going to win?”

“Wouldn't be surprised if it does,” Zayn answers. “Also wouldn't be surprised if Niall's found a way to rig the race.”

“Can you rig a horse race?”

“I'm sure it's possible,” Zayn shrugs as music starts playing.

After a few seconds the whole crowd starts singing along to the music. 

“Are we supposed to sing?” Louis asks, leaning toward Zayn.

“It's “My Old Kentucky Home”. State song. Sing it every year.”

“Oh. Excuse me for not knowing that. Don't know why I don't. I mean, it's not like I'm from England or anything.”

Just as he finishes, Liam and Niall come back in the room, Niall belting out, “While the birds make music all the day.”

“The lyrics are right there,” Zayn says, pointing at a screen on the infield.

Louis hums. “Still not singing.”

When Niall comes over, he wraps an arm around Louis's shoulder, yelling the song into his ear.

This is going to be a long trip home, he thinks, shoving Niall's arm off him. A very long trip.

**

Niall's horse won, though Louis isn't entirely convinced Niall didn't have something to do with it. Liam had missed the opportunity to bet on the horse by two minutes.

Niall had told almost everyone they came across on the trip back to London that his horse had won. Liam kept chiming in that he should've won money, too, but the world fucked him over. Louis was dangerously close to killing both of them because neither would shut up about their respective problems.

When he'd commented, telling Niall to “for the love of god, shut up” Niall had just said he was being irritable. Liam and Zayn agreed.

He's not being irritable. He's aggravated, is all. Zayn still hasn't told them anything about the job. He'd promised on the plane he'd let them know once they get back to London. Much to Louis's annoyance Zayn hadn't and his curiosity and lack of patience is starting to get to him.

But he's got a plan. If Zayn doesn't tell them by the time he goes to leave Louis's tonight, he's going to strap Zayn to a kitchen chair and torture him until he spills.

Well, maybe not torture. Withhold food, sure.

However, if the bag Zayn's digging through right now is the bag Louis thinks it is – Zayn uses the same bag to put his stuff in for every job – he won't have to withhold food.

Zayn pulls out a folder, setting it on the table. “This folder contains all the information I have about this, so don't complain,” he warns. “I've worked very hard for months.”

Niall, who's leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, snorts. “Just tell us who or what it is we're hitting.”

“Why can't you and Louis be patient?”

“Patient isn't in my vocabulary,” Louis says. 

Zayn shakes his head, pulling a small packet out of the folder. “We're going after Harry Styles.”

Liam leans forward in his chair, eyes wide. “Really? What in the world for?”

“I wasn't aware you had dealings with Styles,” Niall comments.

“I haven't.”

“Uh, hang on,” Louis says, holding a hand up. “Who's Harry Styles?”

“Only the youngest, richest business mogul in the U.K.,” Niall answers. “Possibly all of Europe.”

“Well actually, he took over his father's company after his untimely death about a year ago, so none of his wealth and success is because of himself,” Liam corrects, leaning back in his chair.

“Ah.”

That doesn't ring a bell, but Louis has plenty of time to do his research that Zayn always requires them to do for one of these jobs. That's why it always takes him a longer time to pull a job than the others. Liam and Niall will do small amounts of reconnaissance, but only when they need to. Louis, on the other-hand, goes in with as little information as possible. He likes to get things done quickly. 

Though he knows why Zayn does what he does because of that thing that happened that they don't talk about. He knows that whole thing was why Zayn started this whole “We need as much information as possible before we act” plan. And, truthfully, Zayn's right. 

He's aware that his way isn't the best way to go about it, but the stuff that comes before, bores him. He'd much rather skip ahead to the action bits and the payoff.

“Still,” Liam continues, turning his attention back to Zayn, “I don't know what you'd want with him.”

“I'll get to that in a minute.” Zayn pulls out another paper – a police report from what Louis can tell. “It seems young Mister Styles has a price on his head.”

“Does he? What for?” Niall questions, his head buried in Louis's fridge.

“Get out of there,” he calls.

Niall gives him the finger without looking.

“I'm not sure actually,” Zayn answers. “Couldn't figure that out. Apparently, at least from what I could get, he's received several death threats in the past three months and there was an attempt on his life.” 

Zayn grabs a couple more pictures out of the folder, spreading them across the table. The pictures are black and white and show what looks like something that used to be a car.

Niall comes back from the fridge, an apple in hand and leans over Liam's shoulder. “What happened there? An explosion?” he questions, biting into the apple.

“Car bomb. Fortunately for Styles, he decided to walk that day. Unfortunately for his driver, he still had to drive it.”

Liam grabs the pictures for further inspection. “No idea who's behind it?” 

“Nope. His people don't have a clue. Neither do the officials, but his security has been upped.”

“Right,” Louis drawls out. “But I'm guessing our job isn't to protect him.”

Zayn smirks at him. “Not the whole time.” 

“I still don't understand why you all have heard of him.”

“Well, he's sort of famous, isn't he,” Niall supplies. “Friends with a lot of celebrities.”

“Hear he's rather close with Nick Grimshaw,” Liam interjects.

“Hangs with a lot of models and middle-aged business men,” Niall continues. “Gets his name out there a lot.”

“He's worth millions,” Zayn offers. “Possibly even billions.”

“So you're after his money?” Louis asks skeptically.

It's not like any of them would pass up an opportunity to take money, but they've kind of passed that point in their careers.

Early on, it's all about the money. Getting enough so you can finance your bigger jobs. Plus, stealing money is a hell of a lot easier than stealing actual objects. But you eventually move on to bigger things. Things that actually interest you for some reason or another. Going after businessmen gets old and easy quickly. 

They've all passed the point of taking just money years ago. Surely Zayn isn't dragging them into this for the former.

“The money would be nice, but no. That's not what I'm after.”

“Then what are you after?” Louis prompts.

Zayn pulls out another paper, handing to to Louis.

It's a picture of a painting and not a very nice looking one in Louis's opinion.

“A painting?”

“Not just any painting,” Zayn says. “It's art.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Louis passes the picture to Liam and Niall.

“It's _Nafea Faa Ipoipo_ , which translates to _When Will You Marry?_ ,” Zayn explains. “It was painted in 1892 by Paul Gauguin. The Rudolf Staechelin family owned it until February of this year. It was sold in a private auction to, who many believe and I can confirm, the State of Qatar. Styles has somehow acquired it from them. It's still being housed in a museum in Riechen, though.”

“Okay, so you want a piece of art. Big deal,” Niall mumbles around a mouth full of apple.

“It's worth approximately 300 million,” Zayn says with a smirk. “Obviously it'd be more than that on the black market.”

“Why do I have a feeling you don't want it on the black market?” Louis questions. “Which doesn't make sense.”

Zayn is the avid art collector out of the four of them. He's the one that always pulls the art jobs, mostly because he just likes the art and keeps it for himself. But he'd never pull all three of them in to help him obtain a painting he wants to keep for himself. That's not how Zayn works.

“I don't want to do a job that's only going to benefit you,” Liam says, brow furrowed.

Niall tosses the core of the apple into the sink. 

“That's not where that goes,” Louis scorns.

Niall ignores him to ask Zayn, “Do you want to put it on the black market?” 

“I don't,” Zayn says. “I want the painting for myself. What I _do_ want to put out on the black market is Styles's collection of ancient artifacts.” He grabs more papers out of the folder, scattering them across the table.

The papers have various names and pictures of several vases, urns and jewelery. They all look older than dirt. It's nothing that Louis's too terribly interested in.

“Most of them are from ancient Egypt, which as you know, is something I've always been fascinated in.” Zayn leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Not everything is shown there. Nobody knows how much he actually has or how much it's all worth. And I'm sure there will be a few things I want to keep for myself, aside from the painting, but this is the stuff I want to sell.”

“Okay,” Liam says, leaning back in his own chair. “I'm interested now.”

Niall nods, moving to sit in the chair next to Liam. “Count me in.”

They all glance over to Louis, waiting for him to answer.

“Oh, I'm in. Just one thing, I still don't know why you need all of us.”

Zayn smiles wide. “Glad you asked, Louis.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What did I ask?”

“About my plan.”

“You already have a plan?”

“Yup. Have since before I contacted you.”

“Yeah, okay,” he shrugs. “Tell us the plan.”

“Well,” Zayn clears his throat. “This is where things get complicated. I don't know where he keeps this stuff. No one knows. Someone needs to find that out. It'd be easy for me to pose as a curator or summat, but since he's receiving death threats and his security's been upped, it's harder to get close to him.”

“What are you thinking?” Liam asks. “Like a bodyguard?”

Zayn nods. “Yeah, thing is, I know you're more of the bodyguard type build and all, but I want Louis to do that.”

Louis, who'd been absentmindedly tracing the rope tattoo in his wrist, snaps his head up at that. “What? Why me?”

“You're better at getting close to people. Earning their trust and all that shit.”

“Yeah, but I'm actually going to have to protect this guy. I'm good would a gun, but anything beyond that, Liam is better at,” he argues. “And, you know, I won't technically be allowed to have a gun.”

Liam's shaking his head. “I'm not good at lying to people, you know that, Louis. That's why I do more behind the scenes work.”

Louis sighs, knowing that there's no point in arguing. 

“Alright, so give me the details,” he says to Zayn.

“I've got you an interview with the head of Styles's security. Make sure you get the position.”

“I'm not worried about not getting the job, Zayn,” he snaps. “I'm worried that people are trying to off this guy and you want me to step in the way of that.” 

Zayn rubs a hand over his face. “Look, I don't know who or why, Louis. I wasn't able to find that. They just know that he's received several death threats and someone blew up his car a few weeks back.” 

“So I'm risking my life to protect this guy for you to rob him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay. Just checking.”

He knows he can keep himself alive, god knows he's had to do it before, but he keeping someone else alive is something that's a bit harder to do. This isn't going to be as easy of a job as he'd originally thought.

“As his body guard,” Zayn continues, “you'll need to get close to him. Try to figure out where he stores this stuff.”

“And, you know, keep him alive long enough for you to find out,” Niall quips.

“Fuck off.”

“We're going to use your real first name,” Zayn informs him, throwing a bit of rolled up paper at Niall, who just cackles as it hits him in the face.

“Why?” 

“Because, all your other aliases will have shitty backgrounds. You'll need to pass a background check. So, for the rest of this job, you'll be Louis Winchester.” 

Louis wrinkles his nose. “Really?” 

“Yes. Liam will provide you with the appropriate identification later.”

“Alright, so what am I doing, oh great one?”

Zayn gives Niall an unamused look. “You're going to get a job working for Styles. I've already got an interview for you, so please don't get yourself sacked once you get it.”

Niall looks affronted. “I won't get fired.”

“Good. You'll be like second in command basically. Try to get close to Harry. You never know how loose lipped he is with his employees.”

“Yeah, while you're at it, try figuring out if anyone there wants him dead.”

Niall and Zayn turn to him with raised eyebrows.

Before Louis has a chance to answer, Liam does it for him. “You never know, someone there might be pissed they didn't get his father's position. That kind of thing has happened before.”

“Right,” Zayn says, turning to Liam. “Anyway, you'll of course help with surveillance and obtaining any legal documents we may need. I also suspect you'll need to help Louis with his bodyguard thing.”

“I don't need help,” Louis squawks. 

“Didn't we all agree in the beginning that Liam was better built for it and that you weren't good at hand-to-hand combat?”

“Shut up,” he grumbles. 

“When do we start all this?” Liam asks.

“Louis's interview in next Monday. Niall starts working in four days, so on Thursday. Until then I want to trail him. Sit outside his house. See where he goes. That kind of thing.”

“Oh goody.”

Zayn turns to him. “You can take the first shift.”

**

“Come on. Come at me.”

Liam's bouncing on the balls of his feet, arms outstretched, fingers twitching. He looks utterly ridiculous and if Louis weren't so bloody exhausted, he'd comment on it.

Zayn had instructed Liam to “teach” Louis self-defense and anything else he thought Louis might need to know in order to “better portray an actual bodyguard”.

Louis wasn't joking around the night before when he'd said that he wasn't good with this kind of thing. He can throw a punch, sure. He can run for his life and his thighs are pretty powerful – not that he's going to be getting anyone in a thigh-lock anytime soon, in anyway – but that's not enough to warrant a SIA license, even if it is fake, at least according to Liam.

Which is precisely why Liam and Louis have been having a training session all day in Liam's gym – yes, he honest to god has a gym in his home. Full size and everything.

He'd started off having Louis just practice his punching and kicking, but even that was way more than Louis wanted to be doing at six o'clock in the morning. If the clock on the wall is right, they've been at this for seventeen hours, with only two breaks, which weren't really breaks because Liam insisted that he go over with Louis how to make himself invisible in plain sight and how to scan a room for potential threats, like it wasn't something Louis did on an everyday basis.

They moved to actual self-defense techniques and the like hours ago. Apparently, Louis isn't up to Liam's standard of amateur status because he will not let up any.

“Could we -.” 

Louis's cut off by Liam lunging at him, hands fisting into the sleeveless top he's wearing. Since he was cut off guard, which he supposes he would be in an actual attack, he stumbles for a brief moment before firmly planting his feet. 

Instead of following through with the “proper” technique he knows Liam's wanting him to do, he just knees Liam hard in the balls. Liam gasps, immediately letting go of Louis. He's bent over, clutching at himself, but Louis still kicks him in the knee just for the hell of it.

Liam falls to the padded floor, groaning, one hand clutching at his valuables, while the other clutches at his knee.

Louis stands over him with a smirk. “You all right there, Liam?”

“You didn't do the proper technique,” he says between gasps.

“Got you off me, didn't it?”

Liam composes himself, glaring up at him. “Is this how you're going go after people, then?”

“Yeah. Why not? Pressure points, vulnerable spots. It'll work.”

“Even if the attacker is a woman?” Liam asks, sitting up.

Louis rolls his eyes, straightening himself. “Believe me, Liam, if I were to knee a woman there it'd still hurt her.”

There's a frown present on Liam's face when he speaks. “I know that Louis, but like-.”

“Like what? It'll do the job, won't it?”

The frown disappears as Liam stands, wincing a bit. “Was that your way of telling me you want to quit with this?”

“Yes.”

Honestly, Louis doesn't expect anyone to personally attack Styles. Shoot at him, maybe. Another car bomb, possibly. Though, he severely hopes for his sake neither of those happens. Either way, he's sure he can defend Styles long enough for Zayn to do his thing.

Besides, the thing that's always protected Louis the most was his gun. He's good with it, sleeps with it within reaching distance. He's not paranoid, he's _not_ , but in this line of work you can never be careful. But he's good with his gun. Feels naked and unprotected when he doesn't have it on him. It's why he's decided to go against the law and have it with him when he's protecting Styles. 

Going over to the table he'd set his gun, he grabs it. Turning it over in his hand, he revels in the feel of the cool metal against his skin. 

He takes hold of the grip and turns to Liam. “Now, teach me.”

Liam quirks an eyebrow, head tilting to the side. “Thought you were good with a gun?”

Louis sighs. “Yes, but only when I want to kill someone,” he explains. “I know the “kill” shots. I don't know the “injure so they can't hurt me or get away” shots, you know.” 

Liam snorts. “Yes you do.”

“Well, sure, but it'd make me feel better.”

Liam's face softens. “You have nothing to worry about, Louis.”

“I feel like I do,” he admits quietly. “Like, I know I'm only taking this job to help out with Zayn's thing, but while I'm doing that job, my life will be at risk. Not to mention, my temporary job as Styles's bodyguard does require me to keep him alive. And I know we're planning on stealing from him, but I don't actually want the guy dead, you know.”

“Yeah,” Liam breathes out. “But, you've gotten yourself out of sketchy situations before. You can do this.”

The thing it, Liam's right. He generally is about this sort of thing, but Louis's got a bad feeling settling in his gut about this and he's got no idea why. Going by Zayn's plan, nothing should go wrong. Though, nothing ever should go wrong with these sorts of plans, but everything usually does. It's how the game works.

But he's never had _this_ particular bad feeling before, not that he even knows what it is. His head isn't making much sense at all. It's only making him feel worse the more he thinks about it, so he's not going to anymore.

He sets his gun back on the table. “Okay. Let's go back through the basic moves, yeah?”

Liam considers him for a moment with pondering eyes. He must not see anything alarming because he's moving back to the center of the mat.

**

“I fucking hate this part of working with Zayn,” he says, climbing into the back of the converted van with Liam. “What is that?” he asks, sitting down in the chair next to Liam, eying the monitors.

“I was able to hack the security cameras around the grounds of the house,” Liam explains. “Figure this'll help you out as well, since people are trying to kill him.”

“Aw. How thoughtful.”

“I was actually about to move to the front. I'm done back here.”

He doesn't wait for Louis to reply before he's climbing up into the front of the van into the drivers seat.

“You know,”Louis starts, climbing after Liam. “I was here all day yesterday and I never once caught a glimpse of Harry.”

Once he's settled in his seat, he glances at Liam who's looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Harry? I wasn't aware we were on a first name basis now.”

“Oh fuck off. I'm going to be his bloody bodyguard and Zayn wants me to get close to him. I need to stop referring to him as Styles.”

Liam chuckles. “Yeah, all right. I saw him once yesterday. He went for a jog sometime in the evening.”

“Was he alone?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn't seem very safe to me what with a price on his head and all.”

“I think he might have snuck out. When he got back a guy was waiting at the gate and started yelling at him.”

“Great, so I'm going to be dealing with someone who doesn't like rules.”

“Much like yourself.”

“I don't mind rules, Liam. I just don't like following them. You know, they're more like guide-.”

“There he is,” Liam whispers, sitting up in his seat. 

“Why are you whispering? I don't think he can hear us from here,” Louis says, craning his neck to try to get a look.

When he sees him, his mouth drops.

He's not entirely sure what he was expecting, but this was definitely not it.

Harry Styles is much younger than Louis expected and a hell of a lot more attractive. He's tall, with legs that seem to go on for miles, and lanky, yet somehow very broad in the shoulders. His hair is fucking glorious, coming to rest in soft waves just above his shoulder. 

“Louis? You all right,” he hears Liam ask.

“Wow,” he breathes out.

“Oh for fucks sake.”

Harry's been on the phone the whole time, every now and then gesticulating like he's annoyed with whatever the person is telling him. At one point, Louis thinks he catches a glimpse of tattoos. It's hard to tell from this far away.

He finally turns to go back in the house, Louis watching him the whole way. It's not until Harry's completely out of sight does he notice Liam's apprehensiveness.

“What?”

“I wasn't sure you were breathing.”

“He might actually be more attractive then Zayn,” Louis says, setting back in his seat. “I can't know for sure until I see him up close, but he could already give Zayn a run for his money.”

“Louis.”

“Oh what, Liam?” he asks.

“You realize this is a job, right? Like, you're just working for him so Zayn can do his thing.”

“Yeah. What's your point?”

“I just don't want another Sao Paulo to happen,” Liam answers, tapping the steering wheel. “Don't let another Sao Paulo happen.”

And thats – that's not what he was expecting. He knows he messed up in Sao Paulo. Liam's never let him forget, not that he lets himself forget because he got himself into a lot of trouble and barely made it out. But he's not stupid. He's not going to let that happen again. 

“I know this is a fucking job, Liam,” he spits. “I don't need you to remind me.”

“You needed reminding in Sao Paulo.”

“Well, fuck you,” he growls, shifting in his seat. “Like you've never made a mistake before. It happens to everyone.”

“I just don't want you getting yourself in trouble because you start thinking with your dick.”

“I'm not thinking with my dick, you twat,” he defends. “And I'm actually hurt that you think I'm not capable of doing my job.”

“I didn't say-.”

“Yes you did. You said-.”

“Hello, lads,” a voice interrupts from the back, making Liam and Louis both jump.

“Niall,” Louis growls.

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya,” Niall says, closing the back door. “You two were too busy arguing to notice me come in.”

“I'm taking my break,” Liam says, opening the door and stepping out. “Don't be stupid, Louis.” 

Then Liam's shutting the door and stalking off.

“What was that about?” Niall asks, climbing into Liam's vacated seat.

“Doesn't matter,” Louis answers, sinking into the seat. “Lets just watch the house.”

Niall watches him for a moment before shrugging. “All right. I can take a hint.”

**

Louis's not a nervous person. It's one of his best attributes and a very good one to have in this business. Yet, he can't help but worry that he won't be hired as Styles's bodyguard. He's charismatic, he knows, but that's not all it takes to be a bodyguard. In fact, he's pretty sure that having a good personality is at the bottom of the list of traits they look for in a bodyguard, but surely it would help him get the job.

He's good with a gun, yeah. He's even had to fight his way out of a tough situation with nothing but a ballpoint pen. (Liam still doesn't believe him on that one, but it happened. He got lucky.) He's good at assessing situations and all that. He knows he's more than qualified for the job. Zayn's got him stressed out, is all.

It's Zayn's stupid job that's relying heavily on Louis getting this bodyguard position. He's sure he'll get it, but he doesn't want to disappoint Zayn.

And his horrible feeling has gotten worse. He's not any closer to figuring out what exactly the bad feeling is about, not that he's been trying too hard. Maybe it's to do with what Liam said the other day, he's not sure.

Yeah, that's probably what it is. Liam's just gotten in his head. There's no way this job is going to go wrong. At least it won't on Louis's end. 

And he'd stopped his “lessons” with Liam after the argument. They weren't doing much to help him, though. It's not a big deal, really.

Either way, he's nervous, which is something he's not used to, and it has him pacing the road in front of the Styles house.

A voice saying, “You really should relax,” has him jumping, spinning around and glaring at the person.

Fucking Liam.

He's leaning against the van, arms crossed, with an amused smirk.

“I am relaxed,” Louis argues. 

“You forget I know you rather well, Louis. I can tell you're nervous. You're doing that twitching thing with your hands,” he adds, nodding toward Louis's fingers.

“I haven't smoked in a few days,” he mumbles, crossing his arms to hide his hands.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

They stand in silence, carefully avoiding the other's gaze. It's the first time since their argument that they're seeing each other. Louis isn't mad, not anymore. He knows Liam has a right to be worried, but he's not going to be the first to apologize. It's not how he works.

Liam clears his throat eventually, causing Louis to look up at him. He's moved away from the van and taken a few steps toward him.

“Louis, um, about the other day,” Liam starts, taking his time to choose his words. “I shouldn't have said what I said. At least, not in the way I said it. I have a right to be worried, you know, because you're my friend and you do have a tendency to not think before you act, but that's one of the things I love most about you. And like-.”

“Oh for fucks sake, Liam, stop,” Louis says, causing Liam to snap his mouth shut. “I get it. You don't have to apologize. It's nice that you worry and all. And I was being a bit of a prick, too, so you know, we're good.”

Liam doesn't say anything as he closes the distance between them, pulling him into a hug. He rolls his eyes, but wraps his own arms around Liam.

They stay like that for a moment, before Louis realizes they're in the middle of the street in front of Harry Style's house. Lightly pushing Liam away, he takes two steps back.

“I am a little nervous, though,” he admits quietly. “Dunno why, but I am.”

“You'll be fine. I got you all the legal documents and certification you need. That'll be fine,” Liam reassures him.

“That's not what I was worried about.”

“Oh,” Liam breathes. “Well, look, you may not have the typical build of a bodyguard or anything, but you're calm under pressure. You're good at finding ways out of situations most would be stuck in. You communicate well when you need to. And you're good at realizing dangerous situations. You'll get the job.”

Louis sighs, placing his hands on his hips. “I know all that. But how do I show that in an interview?”

“You're good at talking out your arse, Lou. You'll figure it out.”

“Cheers.”

Liam tilts his head. “You know you'll do fine. You're just over thinking it.”

He shrugs, toeing at the ground.

Liam places a hand on his shoulder. “You'll be fine. And if worse comes to worse and you don't get it, Zayn can come up with another plan. It won't be too difficult. Not to mention, Niall's already been hired as Styles's Chief Financial Adviser. So we've got that going to for us.”

Louis laughs softly at that. The idea of Niall working in an office environment is so foreign to Louis that he won't believe it until he sees it.

“You'll be fine, Louis,” he says again, dropping his arm. “Now go. Being late is not a good thing.”

“See _that's_ why I'll get fired if I do get the job.”

Liam smiles, shaking his head. “Go.”

With a nod, a wave, and a good pep talk from Liam, Louis's turning and making his way toward the gate. 

He's got this. He can feel it.

**

“Well, Mr. Winchester,” Paul says, setting Louis's folder on the desk, “I've seen you're file. I've seen your credentials. On paper you seem like the top choice for this position.”

“But?” Louis prompts when he trails off. 

His good mood that Liam had put him in, is wearing off slightly. He's only been in this room for five minutes and he's already managed to bring himself down again. Objectively, he knows everything's gone swimmingly, but he's the nagging in the back of his head is still there, telling him this is all a big mistake.

“But,” Paul continues, “I'm wondering if you've had enough experience in the field at such a young age. I know that protecting a businessman isn't exactly the same as protecting the queen, but this is a serious situation, especially with the attempt.”

Louis clears his throat, sitting straighter in his chair. “I know I'm young, but, as you mentioned, I do have the credentials. I have several SIA licenses, which I wouldn't have if I wasn't capable of doing my job. And I take each client and each situation seriously, whether it's the queen or a businessman. It's all the same to me, in a manner of speaking.”

Paul eyes him for a moment before he leans back in his chair. “Okay. Let's talk about what'd you be doing as Mr. Styles's bodyguard. Obviously, you'd be working long hours. You won't be required to stay here, not at the moment anyway, but it might come to it. He sometimes takes meetings in other countries, so you'll be required to travel with him. You know, the same things you do with any client, really.”

“I feel like there's something you're wanting to say, but aren't.” Paul cocks an eyebrow. “I'm good at reading people,” he explains. 

“That'll certainly come in handy,” he says. “Look, we don't know who's sending the threats or why. They haven't said. The authorities weren't being much help until the car bomb, but they're stumped too. I have a feeling it's someone right under my nose, but it's hard telling who. A lot of people were none too happy when Harry took over the business when his father died. Something about them being more qualified.”

“Are you saying it might be someone on the inside, so to speak?”

Because they'd had that thought for a brief moment. It does make sense. It'd also make his job a bit easier if it was. He'll definitely need to have Niall look into it.

“I'm saying it's a possibility.”

“Well, there's no harm in having me look into it. I'd plan on doing it anyway. There's no need to not be thorough with this sort of thing.”

“Uh-huh,” Paul nods, but doesn't say anything else.

“So,” he drawls out, squirming around in his chair. “Are we...is this-.”

“I want to hire you,” Paul says, bluntly. “I like you. And you seem more than capable of doing this job. And you've passed the background and loyalty checks. I want to hire you.”

“Thank you,” Louis replies and he finds he means it more genuinely than he thought he would.

“Come back tomorrow and we'll go over Mr. Styles's schedule and you can get acquainted with the grounds here and whatever else we'll need to do, including signing the confidentiality papers.”

“Gladly.”

**

“Well, lads,” he says as he comes through the door of his flat. “You are looking at Mr. Styles's new personal bodyguard.”

He punctuates the statement by closing the door with a loud thud, but when he turns around he's greeted with no one.

He tilts his head, placing his hand on his hips. They were supposed to be here. In fact, he knows they were. Niall sent him a picture earlier of his bare feet on his coffee table because he knows it annoys the hell out of Louis when he does that. 

He stands there, waiting. He knows they're here. It's just a matter of where. Compared to Liam's and Niall's flats his isn't that big, but there are quite a few places they could hide.

His ears perk up when he hears Niall's muffled laugh. It's coming from the direction of the balcony. 

When he gets there, he opens the door, stepping outside. Zayn's lounging on one of the chaises, a surprisingly unlit cigarette between his lips, and a smile. Niall's leaning against the railing, clutching his stomach as he cackles. Liam is, well he doesn't know what Liam is doing.

He's on the ground, one leg bent underneath him, as he holds his arm, pouting down at it.

“Uh, what's going on?”

Liam looks up at him, pout only deepening. Niall just laughs harder.

Zayn takes the cigarette in his hand. “Niall bet Liam he couldn't hold a handstand for two minutes.”

Louis looks down at Liam. “You tried it, didn't you?” Liam nods. “Why would you do that?”

“He bet me his batman pajamas.”

Louis's mouth falls open. “What?”

“He bet me his batman pajamas,” Liam repeats.

“Yeah, I heard. I just don't understand. You can't just buy your own?”

Liam's brow furrows. He looks like the thought had never occurred to him.

Louis needs new friends.

“You shoulda seen it, Tommo,” Niall says between gasps. “Funniest damn thing.”

“Right,” he drawls, then claps his hands together. “So, I got the job.”

Niall snorts. “Big surprise there.”

“Never doubted you, mate,” Zayn says. “Hey.” He kicks a leg out, getting Niall's knee. “Get beers.”

“You fuckin' get beers,” Niall says, but he's already halfway to the door.

Louis sits on the edge of the second chaise. None of them saying anything else until Niall comes back with the beers.

Louis takes his, nodding at Niall. He takes a big swig, then sets it at his feet.

“What's on your mind, Louis?” Zayn asks.

Louis shrugs, picking at his fingernail. “Styles's head of security thinks there's a chance that someone on the inside is responsible for the death threats and the car bomb.”

Zayn hums. “You thought as much.”

“Yeah.”

“Not a problem,” Niall chimes, back to leaning against the railing. “I'm there. I can scope 'em out, you know. Meet a few of them already. Bag of dicks, all of 'em.”

“I'll look into all their connections and things,” Liam adds. “Honestly, though, yeah you need to keep him alive for the remainder of the job, but beyond that it's not your place.”

For a moment Louis just stares. He's known Liam for the better part of seven years now and yeah, he can be a bit of a dick at times, but he's generally a caring guy. He doesn't like physically hurting people and he doesn't ever rob anyone that can't afford to be robbed. It's weird that he'd be saying Louis doesn't need to worry about this, but then again Louis might be weird for caring as much.

“I get that, Liam, but try to remember that if people are trying to kill him, there's a good chance that they'll try it while I'm working,” he explains. “It'd be easier for me if I look like I'm trying to you know, protect him, since that's my bloody job.”

“But you don't have to figure it out, though,” Liam argues. “Just keep him alive.”

“But my job is to-.”

“Okay,” Zayn says, loudly. “I agree with Liam and I agree with Louis and that's just driving me nuts.”

“What's it hurt to look into it a bit?” Niall asks Liam.

Liam looks up at Niall with pursed lips. “Well, I guess, technically, nothing.”

“Then it's settled,” Niall says with an air of finality. “Louis will do his whole job as a bodyguard until the job we're pulling is over.”

“You're all idiots,” Zayn mutters.

“That means you are by association,” Louis quips.

“Can I fire you?”

“Who else would do this with you?”

“I can think of a few people.”

“So,” Niall begins, “I met this girl earlier.”

“Where were you that you could've met a girl?” Liam questions.

Niall's brow furrows. “Work.”

“Work?”

“Yeah, the office.”

“The office?” Louis asks, incredulously. “Surprised you didn't get fired already.”

“Hey, I'm good at pretending to work jobs I've got no clue about,” Niall insists. “Anyway, I'm just wondering how long this job is going to take because the girl is fit and-.”

“Niall,” Louis sighs. “Just go out to a pub. Pull a girl there.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn't be sayin' that if you'd seen this one,” Niall argues.

“Not really the best person to judge women, mate.”

“Like you don't have two eyes.”

Zayn, who's taken to lying completely down on the chaise with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed, mumbles, “How much would I have to pay to get you three to be quiet?”

“Don't need money,” Niall replies, sliding down so he's sitting next to Liam on the ground. “You think I can balance this bottle on my forehead?” he asks, gesturing to the beer bottle.

“No,” Liam answers, taking a drink of his own beer.

“I'm gonna try.”

Niall proceeds to tilt his head back, setting the bottle on his forehead. He cautiously removes his hands from the bottle. It stays for two seconds before it's sliding backwards. Niall isn't quick enough to catch it before it's falling off his head, slipping between the rails and falling to the street below.

They're all silent until they hear glass breaking and someone shouting. They share looks with each other before jumping up and running inside to hide if someone should come up to yell at them - all thoughts of Harry Styles and this job forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis meets Harry and things get interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _Nafea Faa Ipoipo_ is a real painting and I honestly hope no one is trying to steal it. Also, the Derby is tomorrow so let's see if my prediction of Carpe Diem winning comes true.  
>  Enjoy!

His first day working for Harry Styles has been uneventful to say the least. He'd meet with Paul at eight. They'd spent the majority of the morning going over Harry's schedules and security plans, as well as who Harry likes to hang out with and who of those have the security clearance to get inside the gate outside – not the most exciting of days. 

They've just finished getting him his security badges, when he hears the front door to the house open and close.

“Ah,” Paul says, looking up from the confidentiality contract he's just finished printing out. “That must be Harry. As soon as you sign this,” he adds, handing Louis the form, “I'll take you to meet him, since you're going to be working so closely with him.”

“Sounds good.” 

Louis signs the form, pretending to read over it. It's not the first one he's ever signed and it won't be the first one he'll break. 

He slips the form back to Paul when he's finished.

“Great.” Paul stands up. “Come with me.”

Louis follows Paul into the house – Louis considers it more of a mansion – shuffling from room to room until they find Harry in, what Louis is surprised to see, a greenhouse – although he supposes the correct term for this would be conservatory – filled with brightly colored flowers and hanging plants.

Harry's back is to them as he stares out the glass wall. When Paul says his name he startles slightly, then turns to face them.

Louis was right the other day when he suspected Harry of being more beautiful up close. It's almost startling really. His powder blue dress shirt is only buttoned halfway revealing chest tattoos. Today he's got his hair in a bun and his eyes are the prettiest green Louis's ever seen.

“Paul,” Harry replies.

And fuck his voice is deep and with just one word it's calmed what little of Louis's nerves existed. This could be a problem in the near future if Louis is already this calm and relaxed around Harry.

“Harry, this is Louis Winchester. He's gonna be your new bodyguard.”

Harry shifts his eyes to him, giving him an obvious once over.

When his eyes settle on Louis's face, Louis steps forward, extending his hand.

“Hello, I'd say I'm looking forward to working for you, but under the circumstances.”

Harry glances down at his hand, then back up at him, making no move to take his hand.

“Okay,” Louis mutters, dropping his hand.

“You don't look much like a bodyguard,” Harry says. “Kind of small, aren't you?”

“What?” Louis squawks, then composes himself. “I may not be the stereotypical look of a bodyguard, but I assure you I am good at what I do.”

Harry regards him for a second more before turning to Paul. “I'm going to read in my room. I'm not going anywhere else today.” He starts walking toward the door, but stops when he's next to Paul. Turning his head to him, he says, “You can send Mr. Winchester home for the day as I won't be needing him.”

With that Harry's sweeping out of the room, leaving a slightly bewildered and irate Louis.

 _As I won't be needing him_.

What the fuck?

Maybe he won't be having a problem feeling calmed and relaxed around Harry after all.

“What the hell was that?”

“He's not usually like that,” Paul voices. “He's been under a lot of stress lately.”

“I'm sure receiving death threats will cause that, but it doesn't mean a person can act like a dick to the person who's going to be jumping in front of bullets.”

Paul lets out a small laugh. “That's true. Believe me he's going to get a good talking to from me about his attitude as of late.”

Louis raises an eyebrow.

“I've been working as head of security for fifteen years,” Paul explains. “Helped raise him. Consider him as one of my own. Having said that, he's got a lot of shit going on with some of the higher ups at the company. And he hates having the constant security.”

“Still a better welcoming from someone I could potentially be risking my life for would be nice,” Louis breathes.

Paul steps forward, placing a hand on Louis's shoulder. “He'll come around. Eventually. He'll start feeling guilty for being a prick.”

Louis huffs out a laugh and Paul drops his hand.

“Come on. I'll show you around.”

Paul doesn't wait for an answer as he walks out of the room.

When he steps out of the conservatory, he freezes. On the opposite wall is five paintings, one them looks very much like the one Zayn wants.

“There are six ways in and out of the house on the ground floor,” Paul says, not giving him a chance to inspect the painting. “One being right there.” He gestures behind them.

There are glass-pained double doors leading to the veranda. It looks nice and has confirmed Louis's suspicion that this is actually a mansion – does having a veranda make a place a mansion? He feels slightly out of place, which he knows is ridiculous. His own place is a hell of a lot more than what normal people can afford, but it's still just a flat. It's his _home_. This is neither of those things.

“There are two balconies upstairs,” Paul continues.

“Let me guess,” Louis starts, “one is to Harry's room.”

Paul nods.

“So, there's a chance someone could get to his room through the balcony.”

Paul nods again. “Technically speaking, yes. It'd be quite difficult, though. The balcony is over looking the back gardens and it's quite high up. They'd have to get through two sets of gates to reach it. We've installed several cameras around the grounds that are monitored twenty-four seven.”

“There are ways around all that,” he points out.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Paul agrees. “But the lad refuses to let me put him in a bomb shelter. Says I'm overreactin'.”

“A bomb shelter might be a bit much, but it would make my job easier,” Louis says with a smile.

Paul lets out a small laugh. “Very true. Come on, I want to show you the outside bit.”

Paul starts walking to the doors to the veranda. Louis does a quick glance around the room. It's huge, but there's nothing aside from the paintings on the wall in here – nothing else Zayn would be interested in.

“Just out of curiosity,” Louis starts, as Paul opens one of the doors, “what do you call this room?”

“A waste of space,” Paul quips. “Mostly we call it the gallery, though.”

He slips through the door, holding it open for Louis. 

“I suggested we put in a pool,” Paul continues, letting the door shut behind them. “That idea wasn't received well.”

“That would be an odd place for a pool,” Louis voices.

Paul's brow furrows. “I was talking about out here,” he clarifies.

“Oh.”

Louis looks out beyond the veranda. He could see why Harry or whoever had made the decision had said no to the pool. The gardens are breathtaking and that's coming from someone who typically doesn't like nature.

“I can, uh, see why the pool idea was ill-received.”

“Harry likes it. Spends a lot of time out here. I think it's because it reminds him of his mother.”

“Did she do all this?” Louis asks, following after Paul, who's walking down the veranda toward a hot tub. “A hot tub? Really?”

“This was Harry's idea,” Paul answers. “And yes, his mother did all this. Harry pays people to keep it up now.”

Louis doesn't say anything else as he follows Paul to wherever their going. There are no other buildings on the property, so if the stuff Harry has is here somewhere it's got to be hidden away in the house. He's going to have to explore that on his own at some point. 

Even though their meeting had been short, Harry doesn't seem to care for him and he'd probably not take to kindly to his new bodyguard sniffing around his house. He'll have to wait for that and be strategic -two of his least favorite things.

Zayn owes Louis a hell of a lot for this.

**

Louis had gone home like he'd been ordered to by Paul, only to receive a call saying he needed to come back because Harry decided to go out to a restaurant to eat. The trip to the place had been spent in relative silence. Harry didn't even acknowledge him. Louis stopped trying to talk to him after a while.

And when he's doing his sporadic check of the grounds, he can oftentimes see Harry watching from his balcony. Louis'd once tried to wave at him. Harry had, of course, ignored him.

This same thing has gone on for a whole week. The only time Harry acknowledges him is when he needs something and even then it's with disdain. 

“So, you're angry that he's treating you like less than him or summat?”

“No,” Louis says, shaking his head. 

Zayn cocks an eyebrow, setting his pen to the side. “Yes you are.”

“Well, sure,” Louis concedes. “But that's only half the problem.”

Zayn sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like he regrets what he's about to say.

“What's the other half of the problem?”

“How am I to get close to him if he doesn't speak to me?”

Zayn blinks slowly, brow furrowing. “I wasn't expecting that,” he admits.

“What the hell were you expecting then?”

“Well, Liam said you thought he was attractive and he voiced his concern that another Sao Paulo would happen,” Zayn explains, then picks his pen up and returns to his drawing.

Louis sits there a second. It's not like Zayn doesn't know about Sao Paulo – Louis's gotten drunk many times and complained about it to him, but that's the only time they ever talk about it. It's like an unspoken rule between them. Zayn doesn't bring up Sao Paulo and Louis doesn't bring up what happened in Paris six years ago with the woman Zayn was most definitely in love with.

Not to mention, Liam shouldn't have run to Zayn with concern about this when there's nothing to be concerned about.

“That's-,” he cuts himself off. 

He doesn't know how to respond or if he wants to. Zayn's always up for having a good chat about all of Louis's issues, but Louis doesn't want to. But at the same time, he needs Zayn to know there isn't and won't be a problem.

“Harry being an attractive person is not going to be an issue,” is what he settles on.

“Never said it was,” Zayn replies, not looking up from his drawing. “Liam said he was concerned, is all. I'm not.”

“Okay,” Louis says skeptically. 

“But, you know, you should figure out how to get him to acknowledge you.”

“Like I don't know that.”

“Have you tried being nice?”

It's Louis's turn to blink at Zayn in confusion. “You think I'm not being nice?”

“I know you,” Zayn shrugs. When Louis stays silent, Zayn finally looks up. “Just do whatever you normally do to trick people into trusting you.”

“I have been!” he exclaims, slamming his hand on the table. It stings like hell, but he doesn't acknowledge it. “He's not biting at all. It's almost like he knows.”

Zayn, who'd gone back to drawing, shoots his head up, eyes wide. “You don't think he does, do you?” he asks urgently.

“Whoa,” Louis says, holding his hands up. “Calm down. He definitely doesn't. How could he? I'm just saying, he doesn't seem like he wants to trust me.”

“He does have people trying to kill him,” Zayn reasons, going back to his drawing again. “Just keep trying.”

“I'm going to have to.”

Louis pushes away from the table, walking over to the fridge. “You want a beer,” he asks, while opening the fridge.

“No.”

He doesn't have beer.

“Okay, good 'cause I don't have any.” 

He flings the door closed. Turning back around, he leans against the counter next to the fridge. “What time will you be there tomorrow?” he asks.

Zayn had managed to find out a few days ago that Harry was looking for someone to appraise the Gauguin. He'd set himself up as a curator from some museum Louis's not sure actually exists, so he can appraise how much it's actually worth. He also mentioned something about making sure it's “the real deal”, but even if it isn't they'll still take it. Zayn would just sell it as the real one and knowing Zayn he'd set out looking for the actual one. 

“Shouldn't you know that, what with being the-.”

“What time?”

“Around lunch,” Zayn answers.

“You know, I'm going to have to put you through a security screening and all.”

“You've already done the background check, right?”

“Yeah, why are you using Nadeem Hanif for this?”

“I was working under the assumption that you would do the background check and that you'd, you know, fake it,” he explains.

“Well, yeah, I did.”

“Then it's not a problem.”

“Does the museum actually exist?”

Zayn looks up at him in disbelief. “Yes, the British Museum exists.”

“Oh.”

“Honestly, Louis, do you ever venture into the world of art and history?”

“Only when I need to.”

Shaking his head, Zayn huffs out a breath. “I'm going to go.”

He stands up, putting his stuff into his non-work bag. When he's got all his stuff bagged up, he throws the bag over his shoulder.

“Don't stress too much, Lou,” he says. “It's not a good color on you.”

“Who said I'm stressing?” he replies with a grin.

Zayn shakes his head, walking out of the room.

When Louis hears the door close behind Zayn, he sits back down at the table, head in his hands.

He's not sure how to go about Harry. He's tried everything he can think of. He's tried being nice, being indifferent. Hell, he's even tried being an arse, but Harry's not responding to any of it.

Theoretically, this job could be done without him getting close to Harry and finding out what he needs to, but it'd be a hell of a lot harder. Plus, this is his _job_ – the one thing he's doing to help out and he's failing miserably at it.

That's what he hates the most in life, failing and disappointing people. (Technically, that's two things, but he hates them equally, so it counts as one.) 

He knows Niall could try getting close to Harry instead of him. Everyone loves Niall. Not to mention, Harry seems to be genuinely friendly with everyone. But it's supposed to be Louis's job. He doesn't want to fail at this and he doesn't want to disappoint Zayn. 

Sighing, he rubs his hand down his face. 

He's not sure what he's going to do about Harry, but he knows he needs to succeed.

**

This day isn't going any better than the previous ones.

He'd taken Harry to work, stood “discreetly” outside whatever room he was in, brought him fucking lunch – which he's sure is not in his job description – and brought him home to meet Zayn in half an hour. The only time during all that that Harry acknowledged him was when he was asking – no _telling_ – him to get lunch.

He's about reached his limit of allowing Harry to ignore him. One more thing and he's likely to snap.

Truthfully, he doesn't understand why he's so bothered by Harry ignoring him. His job can be done without exchanging a word with Harry. Though, if he's being completely honest he does know...maybe. It's a possibility that he knows.

Sure, the failing and disappointing Zayn thing is a part of the problem, but again the job can be done without getting close to Harry. The main thing is, Harry is such an extremely nice person to everyone else he talks to, even when they're being rude to him, but he goes out of his way to avoid Louis.

Louis's never been the type of person who liked being ignored, not that anyone enjoys that, but he's spent so much of his life making sure people knew of his presence – kind of odd when you take into consideration that the majority of people that work in this profession like to go through life without being noticed, but Louis likes to do this stuff differently. It works for him. 

Being ignored isn't something he likes and it infuriates him to no end that Harry is ignoring him and he doesn't even know why this is so much worse than someone else ignoring him. He could venture a guess, in fact, he could probably hit the nail on the head with his guess, but he's not allowing himself to think about it.

Harry unlocks the door to the house, breaking Louis out his thoughts, which he's secretly glad for because he was almost about to venture into the things he won't let himself think about. 

As Louis is walking in behind him, Harry slings the door so it's hitting Louis in the face.

Louis stands there a moment, seething. 

This is it. This is where he ruins Zayn's job. He's going to kill Harry Styles.

He pushes the door open. Stepping into the foyer, he flings the door shut behind him. 

“What in the hell is wrong with you?” 

His voice is barely under a yell, but it still caused Harry to freeze. He doesn't turn around, though. He just stands in the archway between the foyer and the library with his back to Louis.

“You know I'm here to protect you right?” he continues, stepping forward. “I get that I may not be on the same social and financial level as you, but you could at least fucking say hi when you see me or thank me or not shut doors on my face!”

By the time he's finished, he's yelling and Harry's spun around. His green eyes are wide in shock and something else that's undefinable. 

“Is that what you think?” he asks, quietly. “You think I think less of you?”

“How the fuck could I think anything else with the way you've been treating me,” he retorts, not entirely sure why this is what he's chosen to use as his concern.

“That's not it at all,” Harry says, eyes pleading.

Crossing his arms, he asks, “Then what is it?”

Harry's quiet, eyes still pleading. 

When Louis's determined that Harry's not going to answer he throws his arms up. “Whatever,” he mumbles, walking toward the lounge, but Harry's gruff voice stops him.

“It's not that I promise.”

“Then what is it?” Louis asks again.

“A thousand and one things,” is Harry's unhelpful answer.

Louis's about to ask what _that_ means when the door bell rings. Harry visibly deflates, hanging his head.

“I'll just get that.”

Louis goes to the door, opening it to reveal Zayn. He would be early for a meeting the one time it would be beneficial to Louis for him to be late.

“Ah, Mr. Hanif,” Louis says.

Zayn cocks his head, narrowing his eyes. He must be able to tell he interrupted something. He's a hell of a lot more perceptive than he likes to admit. 

“Please, come in,” Louis continues, giving Zayn his “We'll talk later” look.

Zayn recomposes himself quickly, nodding and stepping through the door. “Thank you.”

Once Louis has shut the door, he turns back to Zayn. “I'm sorry, but it is protocol,” he says, gesturing toward Zayn.

“Not a problem,” Zayn replies, holding his arms out and spreading his legs apart.

Louis pats him down. When he finishes, he straightens, turning to Harry, who's still standing in the archway looking very much like a kicked puppy.

“Mr. Styles, this is Dr. Nadeem Hanif,” he says, gesturing to Zayn. “The curator from the British Museum.”

Harry doesn't react, his eyes still trained on Louis. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Zayn glance between them before moving toward Harry himself.

“Mr. Styles,” he begins with an outstretched hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

Harry finally takes his attention away from Louis, taking Zayn's hand in his. “Please, just call me Harry,” he says, dropping Zayn's hand.

Zayn smiles, giving a slight nod. “I just want to say that I'm very glad you've given me the opportunity to see the Gauguin.”

“It's a beautiful painting,” Harry replies. “I don't know much of the origin or really much in general about art other than I like the way it looks.”

“Most people are like that,” Zayn comments. “Unlike you, though, most people don't care enough to learn the unseen beauty of it.”

Harry smiles, any evidence of the foul mood from before washed away. “I'll take you to it,” he says, with a jerk of his head.

“That'd be great.”

Harry turns, leading them down the hall. The gallery – the only place Louis has seen any art so far – is located around the staircase. There's only five paintings hung on the wall, the Gauguin in the middle, with soft lights pointed at each one. The other walls are bare, nothing but white paint covering them.

Harry stops in front of the Gauguin, Zayn stopping next to him staring at it in awe. Louis positions himself with his hands clasped behind his back at a distance so if Paul walked in it'd look like he was doing his job, but he can only see their backs and he won't be paying much attention to anything other than what Zayn says about the painting.

“It's even more beautiful than I imagined,” Zayn mutters, taking a hesitant step forward.

“Go ahead,” Harry permits.

Zayn gets as close to the painting as he can. “I thought this was on display at the Fondation Beyeler in Riechen until June when it would move to Madrid? And that the new owner was taking it in January of next year?” he questions, turning his head to Harry.

Harry shrugs. “I've got it now.”

“Yes, but how?” Zayn asks.

Louis can't stop himself from rolling his eyes. It's not imperative they know how Harry got a hold of it. This is just Zayn's curiosity getting the better of him.

“If you've got money...” Harry trails off, leaving Zayn to fill in the rest.

He nods, turning back to the painting. “I'd heard it had been bought. I wasn't quite sure I believed it. I know many have tried to pass off fake ones.”

“And is this?” Harry tilts his head. “The real one, I mean?”

He asks it in a way that sounds like he already knows the answer, which Louis is sure he does. If Harry did acquire it from the previous owner it would have to be the original. At least that's what Louis thinks. He has no idea what's going on in Zayn's head.

Zayn doesn't answer right away, instead taking a moment to inspect the painting. He carefully runs a hand over the surface of it, humming to himself.

“Gauguin was a post-impressionist. See, he used a technique known as _peinture à l'essence_ ,” he begins, never taking his eye of the painting. “What you have to do is drain the oil from the paint, then mix the remaining sludge of pigment with turpentine. And he often used analogous colours to achieve this muted affect you see here. He was looking to show emotional purity which he conveyed by emphasizing major forms and upright lines, clearly defining shape and contour." 

Louis is beyond bored with this. He doesn't care about it at all. But Zayn's in his element. He's having fun and Louis won't ruin that for him. Also, Harry seems mesmerized by what Zayn's saying. Louis definitely isn't going to fuck with that, which is something he's trying very hard not to think about.

“He liked elaborate, formal decoration,” Zayn continues. “And colouring in patterns of abstraction in an attempt to harmonize man and nature.” He turns to Harry with a smile. “This is definitely the original.”

“That's wonderful.” He can't see Harry's face but he's sure he's mirroring the smile Zayn's wearing. 

“Indeed it is,” Zayn agrees. 

“What was Gauguin's reason for this?” Harry asks, taking a step toward Zayn and the painting.

“He painted it while in Tahiti in 1892,” Zayn answers, turning back to the painting. “He was hoping to find an edenic paradise where he could create pure, primitive art, unlike the primitivist works by other French painters that he considered fake.” Zayn sighs, heavily. “Unfortunately, when he got there Tahiti had been colonized and the majority of the indigenous people had been killed by the diseases brought by the Europeans.”

“That's awful,” Harry breathes.

“Yes,” Zayn agrees. “The primitive culture he was looking for didn't exist. But he still painted many pictures of native women like you see here.”

“Who are they?”

“No body knows,” Zayn answers. “Many believe the white tiare flower there,” he points at the woman in the foreground, “indicates she was seeking a husband. No body knows much more about it,” he concludes.

“It's a lovely painting,” Harry says.

“If you don't mind me asking,” Zayn says, turning to Harry. “How much did you pay for it?”

Harry turns to him, a sly smile plastered on his face. “The Qatari buyer who had it payed around three hundred million. I payed about fifty million more than that.”

Louis's known Zayn long enough to catch the surprise that crosses his face. It's gone so quickly he guarantees Harry didn't notice.

“I wasn't aware you had that much money, Mr. Styles.”

Harry shrugs. “My father always wanted this,” he admits. “It was worth it.”

And isn't that sweet, Louis thinks, trying his best to ignore the weird flip his stomach does at Harry's confession.

“If you don't mind me asking, what are you planning on doing with it?”

“Haven't decided yet,” is Harry's answer as he turns away from the painting. “I have a lot of art that my father collected over the years. Don't know what to do with it really.”

“Might I suggest,” Zayn starts, turning to follow Harry back into the hall. Louis follows after them, keeping his distance. “That you donate it. Most private collectors do. I know we'd love to display the Gauguin as well as the rest of your father's collection.”

“I've thought about it,” Harry muses. “I'm not sure that's what I want to do, though.”

Zayn nods in understanding. “If you do decide that's what you want to do-.”

“I won't hesitate to ring you,” Harry finishes with a smile. “I'm afraid I have calls to make. It was a pleasure, Mr. Hanif. Thank you very much for coming.” Harry stops by the door to the library. “Mr. Winchester will show you out.”

With that Harry's slipping through the door of the library, quietly shutting it behind him.

Him and Zayn stand in silence watching the door for a minute before Zayn turns his attention to him.

“Bit odd,” he says, quietly.

“He's spoken to you more than he's said to me in the whole time I've been here,” he comments, as he starts walking toward the door.

Zayn follows behind him. “What was happening when I got here?”

“Oh you know, the usual,” he shrugs. “I lost my temper.”

“He looked like you'd just told him his gran died,” Zayn says, opening the door. 

“Apparently, I don't think right of him,” Louis explains. “I don't know. You interrupted.”

Zayn purses his lips. “Well, fix whatever you've done. Find out where the rest is,” he adds in a whisper.

“I'll do my best.”

“Good.”

Then Zayn's walking to his car, not sparing him another glance. Louis goes back inside. 

He contemplates finding Harry so they can finish what was happening earlier, but Louis's _not sure_ what was happening earlier. Plus, he's a little scared to. 

So, like the coward that he is, he decides to hide out in the security office until he's either needed or can go home.

**

It's been two weeks and nothing else has happened with their relationship, which is frustrating the hell out of Louis. And when he'd shown up at Harry's the next day, the painting was gone. Nothing had replaced it, there'd just been an empty spot – the four other paintings are still there.

Louis doesn't know what to make of that. There aren't very many people he could ask or ways he can ask without sounding suspicious. He could ask Paul, but he doesn't think Paul would know. Actually, he's sure Paul doesn't care enough to know. He doesn't seem like he's too fond of Harry's art collecting, so he's stuck figuratively and literally.

Harry's working today, which means Louis's here and can't leave. Normally, it's not too bad. Since Niall's gotten a job here he usually hangs out with him in Niall's office since Harry refuses to acknowledge his existence.

Today, though, Niall is in a meeting with Harry and various other people who work here. Louis's still not sure what it is they do or what this meeting is about – something about money he thinks. All he knows is that the meeting has lasted three hours, they ordered lunch half an hour ago, and, judging by what Louis can see through the glass wall, people are getting angry.

Every now and then he catches a glimpse of someone banging their hand on the table, directing whatever they're saying to Harry. Niall seems to be playing peace keeper, sat next to Harry, which Louis is trying very hard to not be upset about. From what he can tell Harry has taken quite a liking to Niall. (He's not jealous. He's just angry that Niall's doing a better job at earning Harry's trust than he is.)

He's not sure about what Harry's doing in this meeting. From what Louis can tell, he's being silent most of the time, looking at the table. 

“The food's here,” someone says, taking his attention away from the meeting. 

He stands, going over to get his own food. It's Indian. Everyone in the meeting had ordered something different. When he'd asked Harry what he wanted, Harry had answered with, “I don't care. Whatever you're getting will be fine”. It's the most he's said to Louis since the day with Zayn and the nicest he's been about getting lunch. Louis counts it as a minor victory.

He grabs his Chicken Tikka and water and turns back to his chair.

“Are you not taking Harry his?”

Louis stops, sighing. “No.” When he turns around, Barbara, someone's secretary – possibly Niall or Harry's, he's not sure – is staring at him with a raised brow. “He's a big boy. He can get it himself.”

“I'll have Tom take it to him.” 

And then she's gone.

He takes his seat, setting his food in his lap. As he's about to take the first bite something catches his eye. There's a man in the office he's never seen before. A short, skinny, blond is messing around the desk the food is sitting on. He sets his fork down and watches.

His view is cut off every now and then when someone walks through, but he sees the guy set a cup back down, slipping something into his pocket. And then he's turning and jogging back out of the office. It's odd and before Louis has a chance to do something, Tom is taking the food, including the drink, into the meeting. 

He watches through the glass as Tom sets the food in front of Harry, who gives him a small smile. It's as Tom is walking away that an idea hits Louis.

He leaps up, spilling his food everywhere, ignoring Barbara's complaints about staining the floor. He's running before he has a chance to think about it, pushing people out of his way. 

Tom's coming out of the room when Louis gets there. He pushes him out of the way, earning a “What the fuck, mate?”, to squeeze through the closing door.

He crosses the threshold as Harry's bringing the straw to his lips. 

Everything seems to be moving in slow motion as he runs and leaps on the table, reaching across and knocking the cup out of Harry's hand and into the floor. 

Once the cup is out of Harry's hand he lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, letting his hand fall onto his arms. He must look ridiculous, sprawled on the table over folders, papers, and Harry's Raita, which is soaking through his shirt. It's going to stain, but he couldn't care less at this point.

“What in the hell is going on?” a woman asks somewhere to his left.

“Someone slipped something in that drink.”

It's Niall that answered from his place beside Harry.

Louis looks up, immediately seeing Harry's wide, green eyes. He's breathing heavy, face pale. He looks scared. Louis supposes he should. He's just had his security guard come running into the room, leaping across a table at him. Louis'd react the same way.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, nodding once.

“It's burning the fucking carpet,” Niall says.

That gets Louis's attention. He gets to his knees on the table, leaning over the edge to look at what Niall's seeing. 

Sure enough, the carpet is burning. Well, maybe not burning, but it's definitely doing something. Disintegrating, is probably the best word for it.

“Christ,” he mumbles. 

He thought it was just a poison, not something that would've burnt Harry up on the inside. That would've been painful.

“Well, at least I'm doing my job,” he says in the quiet of the room.

“You saved my life,” Harry says quietly.

Louis whips his head to the side to see him. Harry's not looking at him, but down at his lap. He's not breathing as hard anymore.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, climbing off the table, careful to avoid whatever it is still burning the carpet. “It's my job.”

Niall clears his throat beside him. “I don't think I'm eating my food now,” he says to Louis.

“I'm sure yours is fine,” Louis tells him. Turning to address the room, he says, “I gotta make calls now. I'm sure all your food is okay and I don't know how much longer you were planning on this meeting lasting, but I have to ask that you stay for however long we need.”

He gently pats Harry on the shoulder as he passed on his way to the door.

“Carry on,” he says, slipping through the door.

Zayn owes him so much more than he originally thought for this.

**

“What'd this guy look like?” the officer asks him.

He'd called Paul first. He'd taken it like Louis expected. A muffled, “god damn” and an “I'm on my way” is all he got during that call. Paul had shown up two minutes before the police, immediately seeking out Harry to make sure he was okay. 

Harry had recovered for the most part. He was still a little pale, but that didn't stop him from doing his best to push Paul away, promising that he was okay.

When Paul had finished with Harry, he'd turned to Louis and smacked him across the head with a “Don't ever let it get that close again”. Then he'd hugged Louis, which was not what he had been expecting, but he took it.

“He was short. No taller than me,” he answers. 

“Weight?”

“Uh, again, like me. He was around my size.”

“What else?”

Louis shrugs. “Blond hair. Wasn't close enough to see his eyes. He was wearing a black trench coat. That's all I was able to see.”

The officer writes it down, then looks up at him. “Any idea who he might've been?”

Louis shakes his head. “Not really.”

“You're going to look at the security camera footage, right?” Paul asks.

“Yes, but that may not be able to tell us anything.”

“Wait,” Louis says. “I do have an idea.”

It's something he should have thought about immediately. It's the only thing that could make any sense. And it boosts they're chances of catching the guy.

“Everyone ordered from different places,” he explains. “Harry and I were the only ones to get Indian.”

“You think the guy worked there?” Paul asks him.

“Has to,” Louis replies. “I had already taken my food when the guy walked in. He went right up to Harry's. And if he didn't know about the food, he wouldn't-.”

“Have had the poison,” Paul finishes. “Yeah, I see what you're saying.”

“I'm not sure how he would've known the food was for Harry, though, unless he recognized the address.”

Although, it is very possible someone in the office tipped him off. He's not going to say that, though. He's sure Paul is thinking it already by the look he's giving Louis. 

“Right,” the officer drawls out. “We'll take your hypothesis in consideration. In the meantime, should you think of anything else you remember, please don't hesitate to let us know.”

Then he's walking over to one of the other officers.

Paul turns to him. “It's the only thing that makes sense,” he whispers.

“Yeah, but there's so many people here...” he trails off, not sure what he was trying to say.

“Had to be someone higher up,” Paul corrects him. “They're the ones with a problem with him.”

“Okay, sure,” Louis agrees. “But I'm telling you, none of them left that room for three hours.”

“They could've texted,” Paul suggests. 

“Yeah, okay, maybe, but there's no way any of them knew which place I ordered from.”

“Could have been one of their assistants or something,”Paul offers. 

Louis nods in agreement.

“Come on,” Paul says. “Want to check on Harry.”

Harry's in his office. He's sitting at his desk, arms propped on it, his head in his hands. Niall, who'd refused to leave Harry alone, is standing off to the side, staring out the window.

“How're you doing?” Paul asks.

Harry looks up. The color is his face back. “Someone tried to kill me again, Paul. How do you think I'm doing?”

“Okay. Stupid question.”

“No one died this time, though,” Louis points out, immediately cringing at himself. 

Harry looks at him, brow cocked. “That's what you're getting out of this? No one died?”

Louis blinks. “Well, yeah. You're driver died last time. I'm saying no one died this time. I'm trying to be positive.”

“Bit morbid.”

Louis shrugs.

Niall turns from the window. “I agree with Mr. Winchester.”

It takes Louis a second to remember that he is Mr. Winchester, so his small smile is a bit delayed.

“Thank you.”

“The carpet needs replaced,” Harry mutters, leaning back in his chair. “I liked that carpet,” he adds, pouting.

“I'm sure you can find the same carpet again, Harry,” Paul replies.

Niall walks toward the door. “Can I talk to you?” he asks Louis.

Louis nods, then turning his attention to Harry and Paul. “I'll be right back.”

He follows Niall down the hall to his office. Niall goes in first, plopping down of the sofa he has pushed against one wall.

Once Louis shuts the door, he turns to Niall, saying, “Zayn couldn't have picked someone that doesn't have people wanting them dead?”

“You know Zayn,” Niall says. “He likes the tough jobs.”

“Yeah, but he's not leaping across tables to protect this guy,” Louis argues. He walks across the room, leaning across the Niall's desk. He takes a deep breath. “I nearly didn't realize the guy had put something in it,” he admits.

Niall sits up. “You did, though. Oh by the way, the next time someone has a poisonous drink, try to not throw it at me.”

“I didn't throw it at you,” Louis corrects. “I knocked it out of Harry's hand in a moment of panic. I didn't control where it went once it left his hand.”

Niall snorts. “Any idea who the guy was?”

“Think he worked at the place or something,” Louis explains. “Paul and I think someone in this office paid him.”

“Makes sense,” Niall agrees. “I'll see what I can figure out.”

“Good.”

“Anyway, you want me to tell Zayn about this? I don't know what you've got to do.”

Louis nods. “Yeah. I'm sure there's paper work or summat. I don't know.”

“Okay. You can go now.”

“Gee, thanks for your permission.”

“Fuck off.”

Louis rolls his eyes, making his way toward the door.

**

He'd gone back to Harry's office after his talk with Niall to find Harry still complaining about the carpet. Paul looked like he was trying very hard not to beat Harry's head against the desk.

He's sure Paul was about to break when Harry had said, “You don't understand, Paul. That carpet spoke to me.”

Thankfully, Harry got out of the day without another attempt on his life.

The only thing to come out of that – good or bad – is that Harry's been making a point to talk to Louis. They've had actual conversations and Harry's even allowed Louis to stay in his office when he's working. It's boring as fuck to Louis, but it's a step in the right direction. He's finally earning Harry's trust he can tell.

The problem with this, though, is that Harry's actually a great guy. He's a bit weird, but in an endearing way. And unlike most of the people who had money that Louis's dealt with, Harry actually cares about other people. Louis's found out in the last couple of weeks that Harry gives a lot of his money to charities ranging from children to animals.

And, regardless of how Louis was feeling about him weeks back, Harry doesn't actually think he's better than any one. It's very evident in the way he treats people. He's genuinely nice. And no matter how terrible the people in the office are to him, he never complains, even though Louis's tried to get him to once or twice. 

He's also funny or rather Harry thinks he's funny with his many puns. They're terrible, his jokes, but it's another of his endearing qualities that Louis can't help but notice.

Truthfully, Louis's scared. He won't mention this to the lads, especially Liam, but he's pretty sure another Sao Paulo could possibly happen. Like, Harry's attractive, there's no denying that. And Louis's pretty sure Harry thinks the same of him if the lingering glances he catches is anything to go by.

Louis had sworn to himself years ago that he'd never get in another situation like that and he has self control. He could stop that from happening, he knows. What scares him, though, is he's pretty sure that Harry is the type of person he would most definitely fall in love with. He might even be halfway there already.

And if he does, that'll be bad for several reasons. Firstly, and the most obvious one, is that this is a job. That's all Harry is. A person that he's supposed to trick into trusting him and then steal from. Not to mention, it's Zayn's job.

Secondly, he'll get hurt, which is the least important reason of them all.

Thirdly, and probably the most important one to Louis, which is really saying something, is, if Harry ended up feeling the same, it'll hurt him and Louis doesn't want to do that. Even if he didn't like Harry, he wouldn't want to do that. He doesn't like to mess with people's emotions like that. Or, actually he does, but it bothers him with Harry for some reason. He doesn't like lying to him.

The fourth and probably most pressing thing that ties into all of these reasons, is that if Louis fails at his “job” and someone does kill Harry.... Well, that'll really fucking suck.

Regardless of all this, he's not backing out of this job. He gave Zayn his word and he intends to see this through to the end no matter how hurt he ends up being. Also, Harry does need protection.

And the motherfucker is making this harder for Louis.

Louis was patrolling the grounds when he saw Harry sneaking out of the garage. Louis wasn't sure he was actually sneaking at first, but the way Harry was slinking around, leaning around the corner of the house, was a good indication.

He'd followed behind Harry quietly, ducking behind a plant when Harry looked over his shoulder, because he was curious to know what Harry was doing.

Turns out he wanted to jog, which is utterly ridiculous. The man has a whole fucking gym on the second floor of his house, with not one, but two treadmills.

Louis's been trailing behind him for a few minutes now and he's not having fun. He doesn't do exercise, not really anyway. He's in shape, but god, he hates running.

He gives it all he's got for a second to catch up with Harry. When he gets up to Harry, he slows his pace. 

“Do you think this is safe?” Louis says to him.

Harry doesn't flinch when Louis speaks to him. “I wanted to jog,” he replies.

“You have a gym in your house with several hi-tech treadmills,” Louis points out.

“Don't like running in place,” Harry explains. “Plus, I like the outside.”

“Okay, but without your bodyguard?”

“You weren't around,” Harry shrugs.

“Now I know that's not true,” he huffs out.

Harry glances over at him quickly. “You look like you're struggling with this. Are you sure you're physically fit enough to be a bodyguard?”

“Oi! Fuck off,” Louis says, affronted. “I don't like running. And don't sneak out again.”

“I like jogging, though.” Louis can't see his face, but he's pretty sure Harry's pouting. “What am I supposed to do?”

Louis considers it for a minute. He doesn't _want_ to, but he _needs_ to do this for several reasons. One, to protect Harry and two, to get closer to him. If doing something Harry knows he doesn't want to do gets him closer to Harry trusting him, then he'll do it.

“How about I go with you?” he suggests.

“What?”

“Yeah, on the days I work I'll run with you.”

“You'd do that?”

Louis does his best to shrug. “It's my job.”

“I'd like that, thank you, but you really don-.”

“Yes I do.”

“Okay.” After a beat, he adds, “seriously thank you.”

“Your welcome, Harry.”

They fall into silence after that, continuing the jog and if Harry slowed down for Louis's sake, neither of them are going to mention it.

**

They're at Zayn's this time. Normally they meet at Louis's because it's more convenient with it being in between where the others live, but Harry's house is closer to Zayn's.

Like Louis's place, Zayn's is entirely too big for one person. But, unlike Louis's, his is much more decorated – the evidence of his past jobs displayed all over the place. It's much more posh looking than Louis's. Yet, somehow it's more homely.

He's been explaining to Liam and Zayn about the poison incident, with Niall chiming in with things like, “Shoulda seen him leap across the table. Looked raving mad.” Liam's been listening intently, while Zayn's been playing around on his phone. He doesn't look like he's listening, but Louis would bet good money that he is.

“Well, the good thing that came out of it is he's talking to me now,” he finishes.

Niall snorts from his spot on the floor. “Does more than talk to you, mate.”

“And what does that mean?” Louis inquires, leaning forward in his chair.

“He doesn't shut up about you is what that means,” Niall explains, picking at the nail on his pointer finger.

“Okay, but what does _that_ mean?”

Niall sighs. “Listen, I know you thought he hated you, but everyday when he'd get in the office and send you off to wherever it was you were going he'd come in and talk about you.”

“What do you mean?”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Harry has like, a massive crush on you.”

And that's...that's something. It's not necessarily a good thing for Louis in terms of his personal issues. For his job, it's perfect.

“A crush?” he repeats slowly.

“Yup.”

“Really?”

“Don't sound so disbelieving, Louis,” Niall says. “You're an attractive guy.”

Louis raises an eyebrow.

“I've got eyes, you twat.”

“Well, this is good,” Liam voices, stretching out of the sofa, throwing his legs over Zayn's lap. Zayn doesn't react, still tapping away on his phone. “He's got a crush on you, you can play that up.”

Louis takes a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. “I'm not going to sleep with him to do the job.”

“I wasn't suggesting that,” Liam says quickly. “You know I wasn't. I'm just saying he'll be more inclined to trust you.”

Louis ignores Liam, to ask Niall, “What kinds of things was he saying today?” 

Niall shrugs. “Heard you're going to start running with him.”

Zayn looks up at that, turning his attention to Louis. “You hate running.”

“He snuck out to do it,” Louis explains. “And I figure I do this with him, he'll open up to me more.”

Zayn hums, turning his attention back to his phone.

“Anyway, you better appreciate me, Zayn.”

“I don't.”

“So, I'm thinking I'm going to go for it,” Niall says.

“Go for what?” Liam asks.

“Barbara.”

“Barbara?”

Louis sits up. “Barbara? Like Barbara from the office?”

Liam turns to him. “Who's Barbara?”

“Is this the same girl you were telling us about weeks ago?”

Niall tilts his head. “Yes.”

“Niall,” he warns.

Niall throws his arms up. “What? There's no rule saying not to.”

“Yeah, but you don't want to -.”

“I do want to, Louis.”

“Yes, but -.”

“Let him do what he wants to do, Louis,” Zayn voices, not looking up from his phone.

“Alright.”

“I think she likes me,” Niall continues. 

“You think everyone likes you,” Zayn counters.

Niall shrugs. “They usually do.”

“Hey,” Liam says, loudly, kicking his leg a bit to get Zayn's attention. 

When Zayn doesn't acknowledge it, Louis picks up a pillow that's been thrown in the floor and chucks it at Zayn. It hits him in the head, bouncing onto Liam's legs. Zayn looks up at Louis, quirking an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Liam was trying to talk to you.”

“I know.”

Louis rolls his eyes, leaning back in the chair, throwing his arm over the back of it. “Never mind then.”

“Sorry.” Zayn locks his phone and sets it on the arm of the sofa. “What's it?”

“Why are we doing all this?” Liam asks. “Like, why don't we just go in and steal it. This all seems a bit pointless to me.”

Louis snorts at that.

For a smart guy Liam is awfully stupid sometimes. They've talked about this many times. It's not changed since the last time they had this conversation. Unless...unless Liam does know and just wants to make sure Louis hasn't forgotten.

Fuck.

He's being paranoid. He hasn't forgotten what his job. He doesn't need reminding. He shakes his head, turning his attention back to Liam and Zayn.

Zayn narrows his eyes. “Well, Liam,” he says, pushing Liam's legs off his lap. He scoots to the edge of his seat. “I don't know how much there is. I don't want to go in and not know what we're dealing with. Also, I don't know where he keeps it. Not to mention, his security has been upped because of the-.”

“Death threats,” Liam finishes. “Yeah we know that part.”

“It's why Louis's there,” Zayn continues. “To figure out where all of it is.”

“I haven't seen any of this crap you've mentioned, Zayn,” Louis shares. “You sure it exists?”

“Yes,” Zayn says, forcefully. “It's there. He's just overly protective of it or summat.”

“Is it possible that he keeps it somewhere else?” Niall asks.

“Yes,” Zayn answers. “But I can't figure it out. I don't think anyone but Harry knows.”

Louis scoots down in the chair, leaning his head on the back of it, looking up at the ceiling. “Paul might know. But if I ask, he'll be suspicious.”

“Would the guy that covers for you on your day off know?” Liam asks.

“Doubt it,” he answers. “I mean, he's been working there longer, but I think there's a reason Paul hired me and gave me almost all the work. Like, he only works one a week and I'm still there on those days, so.”

“Harry hates him, too,” Niall chimes in. “Can't stand the guy. Honestly, Lou, if Harry could I think he'd have you work every damn day.”

“Don't most bodyguards work everyday?” Liam questions.

Louis tilts his head to the side to look at Liam. “Not sure, as this isn't my actual career, but I am there everyday.”

Liam purses his lips together. “Just asking.”

“So, the only person you're getting the information out of,” Zayn begins, “is Harry. I think it'll be easy if what Niall says is true.”

Louis looks back up at the ceiling. Over the course of a week or so, Louis had caught Harry staring at him. One time he'd caught him and smiled back. Harry had fucking blushed, biting back a smile before turning back to his laptop. He had an _idea_ of what was going on, but Niall's basically confirmed it. Harry has a crush on him.

That wouldn't mean much of anything to Louis, aside from the fact that it makes his job easier, except Louis's nearly positive the crush is mutual. 

He's had no qualms in the past playing around with people's emotions for the sake of the job, but those people deserved it. They were horrible people who only cared about the money and expensive items Louis was taking from them. And Louis never got hurt in the process, so it wasn't a big deal to him. 

Now, though, now he doesn't want to do it. He doesn't want to mess with Harry. Harry certainly doesn't deserve it and hurting Harry is only going to hurt Louis. Because for some fucked up reason the universe has decided to fuck him around. He's not even used to having feelings or crushes. He's used to seeing an attractive guy, getting what he wants and leaving as quick as he came.

Zayn tried to tell him once that it was because of the business they were in. It's hard keeping up relationships when you're not you half the time. And Zayn had said that Louis was just scared to let himself feel anything for another person. When he said that all Louis had to do was remind Zayn of what happened in Paris and he shut up.

Zayn might be right, Louis doesn't know. All he knows is that Harry Styles is breaking through whatever defenses Louis had built up over the years and it's fucking with his mind and his job. 

Somewhere he's vaguely aware of the fact that he actually doesn't know much about Harry – Harry certainly knows nothing about Louis – and they've known each other for such a short amount of time. So he's not completely sure what's going on in his head. All he knows is that Harry Styles has something about him that's drawing Louis in and he can't escape.

He doesn't want to feel this way. He doesn't do this kind of thing. His head is a mess. He knows this is a job and once they finish it he'll never see Harry again, not that Harry would want to see him after that. But he knows he doesn't want to play with Harry's emotions. He doesn't want to actually hurt Harry in any way.

But he's got this feeling that that's exactly what's going to happen and he's not okay with that, which is something he's not okay with. This feeling, whatever it is, isn't normal for him. He doesn't like it.

Someone calling his name breaks him out of his thoughts. He tears his eyes away from the ceiling, sitting up. The lads are staring at him with various looks of annoyance. He'd almost forgotten he was with other people.

“What?” he asks, sucking his top lip between his teeth.

“We were talking to you,” Liam answers, rolling his eyes. “Well, actually Zayn asked you something.”

Louis looks at Zayn, quirking an eyebrow.

“I've been thinking about cutting my hair,” he explains, waving a hand up toward it.

“I think it's a terrible idea,” Niall supplies.

“Like, do you, uh, have an idea of how you want it cut?” Louis asks him.

Zayn shrugs. “Something different. I've had this for too long.”

That's not true. He's only had his hair like this for a couple months. Louis had been accustomed to a Zayn with hair on all sides of his head, but Zayn had showed up one day with the sides shaved off. Louis's never been a fan of that hairstyle on anyone, but it's Zayn and it looks damn good on him.

“Yeah, well, I'm sure you'll figure something out,” Louis says.

“Just don't get it all shaved off,” Niall says. 

Zayn smiles at that. “I think that's what I'm going to do.”

“Oh god, no,” Louis expresses, standing up. “We don't want a repeat of Liam's hair disaster.”

“Hey!” Liam exclaims.

Louis turns to look at him. “Sorry, mate, but you can't deny that hair was awful.” He then turns to Zayn. “I'm going to go. 'm tired and I have to be up early so I can go jogging with Harry.”

“Have fun with that,” Zayn responds with a barely concealed smile.

“I will murder you someday,” Louis mutters, making his way to the door.

“Love you, too!” Zayn shouts.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Louis doesn't hear what Zayn says next because he's already out the door. 

Once outside the building he pauses. He doesn't actually feel like going home. He's not all that tired, he just didn't want to sit in there any longer with all these thoughts in his head. He contemplates going to Harry's, but his work day is over, it's around the time Harry usually falls asleep, and he'd have nothing to do.

Harry mentioned to him a few nights ago that if Louis didn't want to trudge across the city every night and morning he could stay in one of the guest rooms. Louis politely declined, ignoring the way his stomach flipped at the idea that Harry might want him around even more than he already is.

Now, though, the idea seems good. He doesn't even need to stay in a guest room. He could sleep on the couch in the security office or the sette in the conservatory. He's not picky. He just doesn't want to go home to an empty flat.

He takes one step toward the direction of Harry's home, but stops himself. It's not a good idea. Going to Harry's now isn't something that would help him personally or professionally. 

With a heavy sigh, he turns in the other direction, making his way towards his own flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi! [thoughtlessblogger](http://www.thoughtlessblogger.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start going bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm apologizing in advance for the cliffhanger. Sorry. Also, if ever in any of these situations please make the exact opposite decisions Louis makes.  
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated. Enjoy!

Harry had decided to work from home today, which is fine with Louis. He doesn't have to deal with people this way or worry about someone trying to off Harry and accidentally getting him too. 

Since Harry's working it means Louis has nothing to do. Normally, when Harry's at the office Louis hangs out with Niall or stays and watches Harry work, which is a lot more entertaining than it sounds. It probably has something to do with the way Harry bites his bottom lip when he's concentrating hard on something. He likes watching Harry's lip turn white after a while. It's definitely _not_ something he dreams about seeing up close and personal in a very intimate way. 

When Harry works from home, Louis has no excuse to stay and watch him, so he has to find other ways to entertain himself. The computer in the security office is usually where he goes. He doesn't use social media unless it's for a job because it's too dangerous and there isn't much else that interests him, but it is something to do.

He has to be careful about what he does on here, since the computer is in the security office and he has a sneaking suspicion that Paul regularly checks it. He's not doing anything incriminating right now as he's reading an article about the possibility of lions becoming India's national animal. Not that he'd ever do anything incriminating on someone else's computer unless he was trying to get them in trouble.

“Hey, Louis.”

Louis looks up from the computer for the first time in an hour and a half. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to not staring at a computer screen and when they do, he startles, brow crinkling.

It's Harry. He never comes into the security office. Louis's never _seen_ Harry on this side of the house period. And they'd just seen each other about half an hour when they went on their morning jog. Harry said he was going to take a shower. He hasn't yet, still in his shorts and grey t-shirt he was wearing earlier.

There must be a problem of some sort if Harry's in here, though he doesn't seem it. He's just casually standing in the center of the room, with a small smile. Louis still mentally prepares himself for anything, though, bracing himself, ready to put himself in between Harry and danger.

“Hello,” Louis replies cautiously.

Harry tilts his head to the side, smile growing. “Do you like flowers?” he asks causing Louis's eyes to narrow.

What the fuck is this?

Is this some sort of signal for there being trouble that Paul and Harry never bothered to tell him about? 

“Um, they're nice in gardens, I guess,” he answers slowly, sneaking his hand back to where his gun is hidden in his waistband. It's cool where his fingertips touch it, immediately calming him.

“Yeah, but do you like looking at them? Smelling them?”

What. The. Fuck.

“I mean, they're nice decoration. Some of them nicer than others. Truthfully, I can't ever actually smell them.”

Harry hums, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Harry, are you alright?” 

Harry nods. “Yes. I was just out in the garden and realized I didn't know how you felt about flowers,” he explains like it explains anything.

“Uh-huh. Are you sure you're alright?”

“Yeah. It's just, Paul never let me put flowers in here. I always thought it would make this room nicer.”

That's probably true. Everything in this room is either grey or black. It's a bit depressing, really, but Louis hardly spends any time in here. If Paul wants to spend his time in a dark room, let him.

The conversation is still a bit weird, but Harry's comments haven't given him a reason to suspect danger anymore.

Releasing his grip on his gun, he says with a small smile, “Colorful furniture would help, too.”

Harry's smile grows. “It would.”

“It's your house. Why don't you just put flowers in here anyway?”

Harry shrugs. “He spends most of his time in here. I don't.”

“That's a good reason, I guess.”

“Just know that if you want to put flowers in here or whatever, you can.”

“I'll remember that.”

Harry nods. “I'm going to go back in there,” he says, with a jerk of his thumb. “Still got work to do.”

“Have fun.”

He gets a smile from Harry as he slips out of the room.

What the hell was that?

There isn't an issue of any kind. Why the hell did Harry feel the need to ask Louis's opinion on flowers? And why the hell was he in the garden when he'd said he was going to take a shower? 

He's never thought about it before, but there are fresh flowers in just about every room of the house. And didn't Paul say something about the garden being Harry's mum's? He doesn't know anything about what happened with Harry's mum. 

He knows she's dead, but he doesn't know the details. He doesn't know when or how it affected Harry. Is this the time of year she died? Or the day? That could explain why Harry was acting weird because he was also quiet this morning when they were running. Every other time they've gone he hasn't shut up. Louis doesn't think he's human because he can run and talk at the same time without getting out of breath. Every time Louis tries it he ends up bent over gasping for air.

But Harry was quiet this morning. He'd seemed a bit down. Louis hadn't thought anything of it, since even people like Harry can have off days. But now that's Harry's mood seems to have done a complete turn around to where he's asking Louis about flowers, it's odd.

It's got to be something about Harry's mother, he's sure of it. He could ask Harry, but it's not exactly something he'd be comfortable asking. He could ask Paul, but he doubts Paul would tell him anything. He could look it up, but that'd require him to _actually look it up_. 

He shakes his head. He's getting too worried about Harry's moods, which isn't good. He's probably just over thinking it anyway. People have mood swings sometimes for no reason at all. He shakes his head one more time and turns his attention back to the computer.

**

Louis had gotten a text from Paul saying that when him and Harry got back from the office they needed to have a conversation. That's all the text had said. There was no explanation as to what they would be discussing.

He's not nervous at all.

Except he is and he's sure Harry's picked up on it by the worried glances he's been giving him all day. He's nervous and he's showing it.

He has no reason to be, he knows. There's no way Paul has found out anything about Louis and what he's actually doing there. Not that it's what he's nervous about if he's being honest.

This little meeting could be about Harry and that's got him more concerned than anything. Had Harry received another threat? Did they get information about who's doing this? There's a thousand other questions running through his head about it and he has no answers.

And this isn't be what he should be the most concerned about. He should be more concerned about Paul having miraculously found out the truth about him. He just can't bring himself to be. 

His stupid _stupid_ brain has decided Harry's safety and well-being are more important than Louis's. It's fucking pathetic that he cares so much about this man he barely knows and is planning on screwing over.

If Louis were a better person he'd pull himself out of this before it gets out of hand, but he's not, so he's sticking to it.

With each passing moment they get closer to Harry's, which means he's getting closer to Paul and whatever that's about. And Harry keeps glancing at him like he's a bomb about to explode. It's irritating and only making him more nervous.

“What?” he drawls out, turning his body toward Harry.

Harry, who'd he caught sending him another look, freezes, eyes widening and biting his bottom lip.

Louis waits, but Harry just keeps staring at him.

“Seriously, what is it?” he asks, relaxing against the side of the car door. 

As much as Louis is sure he can do it, Paul insists that they keep Harry's driver. According to Paul, Harry claims “it's his job” and “I don't want to take that away from him”. It's another of those _things_ about Harry that Louis can't stop being endeared by. Either way, Louis's glad he doesn't have to drive. London traffic has never been something he's been particularly fond of. 

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Harry composes himself, his lip red from being bitten. Louis'd like to bite it, see what it tastes like. Jesus, that needs to stop. Pull it together, Tomlinson.

Harry lets out a deep breath, like he's not entirely sure he should say what he's about to say. He probably shouldn't for Louis's mentality, but he does.

“You just seem nervous, is all,” Harry replies.

Louis quirks an eyebrow. “Really? How so?”

It's fucking stupid. He should've denied and went on. And if Harry had continued to pry he could've found a way to stop it, flip the conversation to something else. He's good at that, but _he should not have done this_. He shouldn't have asked Harry to elaborate because whatever happens now is not going to help Louis in anyway.

He's supposed to be Harry's bodyguard, not a person Harry cares about or someone Harry can see is nervous. It's not something that's supposed to be happening.

“You're fingers are twitching,” Harry answers, eyes flicking to Louis hands where they rest on his thighs. “I noticed they do that when you're nervous.”

Fuck.

He balls his hands into fists to hide his fingers. Not that it does any good since Harry's already seen them twitching. He already knows it's something that happens when he's nervous.

It took Zayn two years to figure that out. He noticed in Paris all those years ago, but never said anything about it until months later when he'd finally come back from hiding after the ordeal. Either way, it had taken him two years and Liam and Niall each took longer than that. 

For Liam it was in Sao Paulo when he'd shown up at the prison and pulled Louis out. He mentioned it almost immediately with his “is that a nervous twitch?”. Louis had been so worked up at the time he didn't deny it. 

Niall realized it when they were nearly arrested for arson in some forest in Germany. The thing about that one is they actually hadn't done it. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time and it was just a few months after Sao Paulo. He started panicking because there was no way he was going back to prison. Niall didn't point it out right away, figuring it was a nervous habit that Louis didn't want to talk about. Niall's good like that.

It took the people closest to him – the people he feels most comfortable around – years to realize it, but it's only taken Harry a couple of weeks. 

“I, uh, first time I noticed was during the whole poison drink thing,” Harry explains hesitantly when Louis's been quiet for too long.

Shit. Had they been twitching like that then? 

He usually goes out of his way to hide it when it's happening. And on rare occasions he can stop it from happening. He'd obviously failed. 

Had he just been too concerned doing his “job” that he'd not thought about it? Or had he genuinely been scared for Harry and how close he'd almost come to failing at protecting him?

The whole situation is bad. 

“Should I not have said anything?” Harry asks at Louis's further silence.

Louis blinks quickly, shaking his head. “No, no. It's fine.”

“But you are nervous?”

He considers lying. He really truly does, but Harry's looking at him with sparkling, worried eyes and he can't. He can't lie to Harry. Well, he can. He _is_ , but not about this.

“I am.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Harry's brow furrows as he looks down at his lap. He doesn't say anything and Louis just watches him. The way they're positioned Louis can only see half his face and it's shadowed, but he can tell by the set of his mouth and his brow that he's struggling with not saying whatever it is that's on his mind.

Louis's about to ask when Harry shifts, turning his body more toward Louis.

“Was there another threat?” he says quickly like he doesn't want to know the answer. He probably doesn't because he's continuing before Louis has a chance to answer. “Because like, you can tell me. I think I deserve to know. I mean, it is my life, but like, I get it if you don't want to because why have me panic, you know? But if that's what it is you can tell me if that's what you're worried about.”

Louis doesn't know what to say. Blinking at Harry repeatedly, he's speechless for one of the first times in his life. It makes sense that Harry would interpret his nervous energy as something to do with the death threats. In a way it is, but it -. 

He doesn't know, is the thing. 

Really, he's hung up on Harry thinking it would be okay for Louis not to tell him about it. Does he honestly think it's okay to be kept in the dark about it? Or is that something they were doing before the first attempt? When exactly had Harry found out about all this?

It's a jarring realization that he doesn't know how Harry found out. He doesn't know if Paul had even actually told Harry or had planned on it. He knows very little about the whole thing. As the person who's supposed to protect Harry he knows very little about the situation.

Harry seems fearful, whether it's for himself or Louis he can't tell, but either way it has Louis wanting to wrap him up in the world's biggest hug, running his hands through his hair to calm him down.

If Liam were here he'd smack Louis across the head, telling him to get a grip.

He needs to. He's too invested in Harry right now. If this continues on much longer Louis could be in serious trouble.

“Should I just not have said anything?”

“What?” Louis shakes his head. “No, you're fine. I, um. I just.” Pull it together, Tomlinson. “Paul wants me to meet with him. He didn't say what it was about. So, you know, it could be a development of some sort.”

“Okay.” Harry's silent for a second before he's adding, “You would tell me, though, right?”

Louis can feel his features soften at that. He almost wants to cry. “Yeah,” he answers, but he's immediately rethinking. 

Would he? Would he tell Harry if another threat had been received? Would it matter one way or another if Harry knew? Or would Paul let him tell Harry? Would it be safe for him to know? There's so many things to take into consideration with this.

“Well, actually, if you want me to be honest. I can only tell you what Paul allows me to tell you,” he corrects, ignoring the way Harry's face falls. “Oh, don't be like that. Paul and I have experience with this.” He doesn't, but Harry can't know that. “There may come a time when it's not safe for you to know something.”

“So, you'd be lying?”

_I'm lying now._

“Omitting certain things you'd be better off not knowing, is how I see it,” he tries to reason. He knows it's a weak argument, but it's the best he has.

“That's still lying,” Harry counters.

Louis sighs, letting his eyes find Harry's. “Yes, but if it protects you in some way I'd do it.”

“Shouldn't people trust their bodyguards?”

Fucking hell.

“Yes, but like, as your bodyguard there are certain things I'm not required to tell you if I think it'll help keep you alive,” he argues. “Do you not trust me?”

He's not sure he wants to know the answer. Professionally he needs Harry to trust him. Personally he wants Harry to trust him. Either way if the answer is no, it's not good for him.

“Of course I do,” Harry answers earnestly. “And like, I get it. I do. I just. I went so long not knowing about it, you know. Maybe you don't, I dunno. But it had to take someone actually dying before Paul told me anything about it.”

It's not that surprising, really. Louis may not be an actual bodyguard, but he's seen enough to know that if an attempt doesn't seem imminent most times the person the threat is addressed to won't know about it. In the past, he never understood that. He's starting to now in a way.

Still, he understands why Harry would be bothered by not knowing about it and having to find out in the way he did. He'd be livid if it were him.

“I'm sorry about this,” Louis says with as much sincerity he can muster, which is surprisingly – or not surprisingly depending on how you want to look at it – a lot. 

Harry's shaking his head before Louis's finished. “Not your fault. Don't apologize.”

“Well, it still sucks you've got to deal with this.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you two ready to get out now?”

They both startle, whipping their heads around to the front of the car. Steve's turned halfway in his seat to speak to them with an amused smile.

Louis turns to look out the window. Somehow he'd not realized that they were at Harry's.

Harry must've had the same problem because he's asking, “How long have we been here?” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “About five minutes. Didn't want to break up the talk you were having.”

“Oh. Um, thanks.”

“Get out of the car, kid.”

Harry pouts, but obeys. Louis gives Steve a nod before opening his own door. 

Once he's out, Harry's grinning at him over the car. 

“What?”

“You really are short.”

Louis rolls his eyes, mumbling “Idiot”, as he's walking around the car. He doesn't pass Harry, though, because Harry's wrapping his hand around his elbow, pulling him to a stop.

“Whatever this talk is, I'm sure it's okay,” he soothes, which is hilarious. It's supposed to be Louis's job to soothe him.

His eyes flick down to where Harry's holding onto him, then back up to his face. “I'm sure you're right.”

“'course I am.”

Louis bites back a smile. “Can we go in now? I'd rather get this over with.”

Harry nods, letting go of Louis's arm. He regards him for another second before turning to go into the house. Louis follows behind him, noticing the white van across the street. When he squints he can barely make out Liam's form in the front.

Louis gives a small wave that could easily be passed off as him swatting at a bug, then he's following Harry into the house.

He shuts the door behind him, turning to see Harry leaning against the banister for the stairs. 

“You okay?” Louis asks him, walking to stand in front of him.

Harry nods. “Yeah. I think I'm just going to go up and read. Don't think I'm going anywhere else today.”

“Okay.”

Harry turns, walking up the stairs. 

Louis waits for Harry to be out of sight before he's turning, making his way down the hall to the security office. Paul has his own office inside of the security office, which is where Louis finds him. He also doesn't think it's fair that Paul gets his own. He won't ever say that to him because Paul is a much bigger man than Louis and he maybe frightens Louis a little. He'll never admit it to anyone, though.

He's sitting at his desk, sifting through papers. When Louis knocks softly on the door, Paul looks up, motioning with his hand for Louis to come in.

Louis closes the distance between him and one of the chairs sat opposite Paul. “So, what's up?” he asks, lowering himself into a chair.

“There's a charity event on Friday,” Paul says, catching Louis off-guard.

“Okay?”

“Harry has to be there,” he explains. “There will be a lot of people. There will be security, but not enough in my opinion. There are a lot of ways in and out of the building and people won't be watching them. You'll need to keep a close eye on Harry. Never let him out of your sight. Be noticeable enough for Harry to easily find you if he needs you, but not noticeable enough for people to question you're presence there.”

“Okay.”

“While Harry's at the office Friday morning, you and me are going to take a trip to this place, so you can get familiarized with it.”

“Of course.”

“That's it,” Paul says, looking back down at his papers.

“Wait, you couldn't have just told me in a text?” Louis wonders. “You don't have reason to believe that something's going to happen do you?” he adds, narrowing his eyes.

Paul looks back up with a deep frown. “No. I just want you to know that there's a charity event that Harry has to go to. He hates these things. He's always trying to sneak out after a while. It's imperative that he doesn't.”

“Sure,” he agrees, nodding slightly.

“That's it.”

“Alright.”

Louis stands. Paul said he doesn't think anything is going to happen, but he's got a bad feeling about this. When he reaches the door, he stops, opening his mouth to say something, but Paul beats him to it.

“I'm serious, kid. That's really all it was.”

He waits a moment before nodding and leaving the office.

There's a good possibility that he's just being paranoid, but the feeling in his stomach had been pretty mild up until now. It was still there, but he was able to ignore it. It's back full-force now.

He knows there's nothing he can do about it, except wait it out, so that's what he fully intends to do.

**

Harry decided to work from home again. Louis had decided against the computer today, opting to get comfy on the sofa with his phone.

Harry had walked in some time ago, settling down on the other end. He didn't say anything as he did it and Louis hadn't acknowledged it, so they'd sat there in silence. He's not sure how long they've been sitting there, but he's sure Harry was watching him for a majority of that time.

It stills startles him a bit when Harry breaks the silence.

“You know, I don't actually want to go.”

Louis glances up at Harry. He doesn't seem too troubled by it, but by the way he's pulling on his lip with his fingers Louis can tell he has something on his mind. 

“Then don't,” he answers, locking his phone and setting it on his thigh.

It's easy for him to say. His bad feeling hadn't died down over night causing him a small amount of sleep. The feeling is still there and if Harry doesn't want to go on Friday Louis isn't going to force him.

Harry shakes his head immediately. “No, I have to.”

“You really don't, mate.”

“It's Rainbow Trust.”

Oh. Yeah. He briefly remembers Harry mentioning something a couple weeks back about his donation to them. He had planned on doing their London Marathon, but Paul had been against it saying, “It'd be impossible to secure that. You would literally be the unsafest you could possibly be”.

Louis could tell even when Harry was recounting the conversation that he didn't agree and if it had been possible for him to sneak away he probably would have done it anyway. 

The event on Friday is, in Louis's opinion, just an excuse for the wealthy to get together to drink and gossip, but if it's helping raise money for sick kids and their families he's not going to complain.

“It's just a dinner,” Louis says. “Send them the money. Nothing says you have to go.”

Harry sighs deeply, letting his head fall back on the back of the sofa. He swallows, the muscles of his neck more prominent this way. Louis has to look away to stop himself from leaping across the small space separating them and attaching his mouth there.

“It's all about appearances,” Harry mutters. “That's what they tell me, anyway. I've got to go.” 

“Then grab some food, say hello to a couple of people, then leave,” he suggests.

Harry's still looking at the ceiling, but Louis can see a smile on his face. “You don't want me to go because it'll make your job easier.”

“That's true,” Louis agrees. “Lord knows I'd love to stay at home all day doing nothing. But, honestly, if you're not comfortable you shouldn't have to.”

“I'm always one of the youngest people there.” Harry sits up, repositioning himself so he's facing Louis with a leg bent underneath him. “Everyone always talks down to me, acting like I don't know anything.” Harry makes a disgusted face, snorting. “God, I sound like a child. Maybe they're right.”

That's enough to make Louis want to tie Harry up and keep him from going. He can't stand the thought of people making Harry feel bad.

And that – that's another one of those disconcerting things that Louis's feeling because of this man. He shouldn't be thinking like this. He shouldn't care at all about Harry's feelings. 

“No you don't,” he replies forcefully, causing himself to mentally slap himself. “I don't think you do, anyway,” he adds softly.

“I know a lot of people don't think I can handle being in charge and all,” Harry continues. “I mean, _I_ didn't think I could. When dad told me-.” Harry cuts himself off, looking down at his lap. Letting out a deep breath, he looks back up. “When dad told me that he was leaving me in charge I argued with him about it.”

“Did you not want to?”

“No, not really. I mean, he always just assumed I wanted to,” he explains. “I never corrected him. There wasn't really anything else I was interested in, so I figured it'd just be there as like a safety net. And I'd always assumed that I would start inside the company and like work my way up to dad's position when he was ready to retire. I hadn't actually started any of that, yet. I would occasionally attend meetings or whatever dad wanted me to go to, but I was spending the majority of my time traveling. You know, having fun.”

Louis moves his phone to the coffee table so he can reposition himself, mirroring Harry. “There's nothing wrong with that.”

Harry smiles at him. “No, but I never did get to finish out my traveling.” 

Harry goes quiet. Louis can guess the next part of the story. He's never been told what happened exactly other than Harry's dad dying, leaving Harry to take over. That's all he knows. Much like with Harry's mother, he doesn't know the specifics and he's not going to push Harry into talking about it.

He doesn't need pushing, though. “Dad rang me when I was in Norway,” he continues. “Told me I needed to come home when I had a chance. I could tell by his tone that something was wrong. Came home immediately.” He pauses again, running a hand through his hair. “He smoked, you know. Terribly. Always tried to get him to stop. It was too late by the time he did.”

“I'm sorry,” Louis mumbles.

Harry shakes his head. “It's fine. I'm okay now. But then...it wasn't good. He told me before he died that even though I didn't have much experience he was still appointing me CEO. He made the announcement the next day.” 

He's staring at a place somewhere behind Louis, probably remembering the pain and confusion he was going through. If Louis were a different person, like an actual friend to Harry, he'd reach over and pull Harry into a his lap and cuddle him until he couldn't breathe.

“They reacted how you would expect,” he continues, still staring behind Louis. “They never said anything to me or dad, but I heard still. Things about, “that poor boy, losing his father like this, but you know he's not ready”. Didn't do much to make me feel better.”

“They're stupid.”

Harry shakes his head, training his eyes back on Louis. “Nah, they were right. I wasn't ready. And I knew that, but it was my dad, you know. And I wanted to prove that I could do it, but I also wanted to prove to these people that my dad knew what he was doing.”

“I'm sensing a but,” Louis prompts when Harry trails off.

“But I didn't for a while,” is Harry's response. “I knew for a couple of months that it would happen, but no matter how much you try you can't be prepared for that. And like, I had been working my arse off to learn how to run a company, but when it actually happened – when dad died – I kind of just lost it. Stayed out late, drinking, doing a lot of things I'm not proud of. Took Nick sitting me down and giving me a good talking to for me to realize that I was ruining everything. I think it was his “your dad wouldn't be proud of you right now, Harry” line that did it.”

 _Nick_. Nick Grimshaw. It's the first time Harry's actually mentioned him to Louis. He'd known of course, that they were friends since the lads had told him – not to mention he was also given a list of Harry's friends when he was hired. Nonetheless, it doesn't help with the small pang of jealously that's settled in his stomach when Harry mentioned him.

It's ridiculous, is what it is. He has nothing to be jealous of. Nick and Harry are just friends. He _knows_ that – had been told very specifically by Paul that no matter what the media said they were always wrong about Harry's relationships with people he was seen with, especially when it came to Nick. 

So, there's no reason he should be jealous. Not to mention that he's working. This is a job and he's getting too invested.

“Thank god for Nick, then,” he says with a bit more venom than he had hoped.

Harry's brow furrows at that. “Well, yeah. Had he not done that who knows what would've happened. Anyway, I'd like to think I've done a good job and that dad would be proud.”

“He would be,” Louis says all too quickly. “I mean, I didn't know him, obviously, but like, it seems to me you're doing a fantastic job.”

A shy smile takes over Harry's face. “Thank you, means a lot. And like, it helps that I can give to charities and help people out. I really like that I can do that.”

Louis sees that too. Harry's face lit up when Paul mentioned the RNCF had called to inquire whether he'd be donating again this year. And there was the incident with the Blue Cross animal charity they came across one morning where Harry had Steve literally stop the car so Harry could get out. Harry wanted to adopt one of the puppies. Louis had to talk him out of that, reminding him that he didn't have time to take care a puppy.

Also, Niall told him a few days back that a good portion of Harry's money goes to charities that range from every topic to every country. And that, from what Niall could tell, Harry deals with it all on his own even though he's got people who do this stuff for him.

Louis's choosing to not think about it. It's better for his mentality if he doesn't.

“Um,” Harry says, gaining Louis's attention again. “Thanks for listening. I didn't mean to go through all that with you.”

“It's fine,” Louis assures him. “Really. Those people who doubted you – who still doubt you – are wrong. You're doing a wonderful job even if I don't know what it is you do exactly.”

Harry barks out a laugh. “I like to keep the mystery.”

Louis cocks an eyebrow. “You're far from mysterious. Can read you like an open book.”

“I doubt that,” Harry replies. “Seriously, though,” he adds, “thank you. I don't talk about this very much. Well, not at all actually.”

“Anytime, Curly,” Louis says, wincing internally at the nickname. 

That's not something they do. They don't use nicknames – rather Louis doesn't. When you use nicknames it means you're at certain level in your relationship where there's a lot of trust between you. That's how he's always felt about it, anyway. Harry certainly trusts him to some degree because he just opened up about his father's death and while he may trust Harry more than he trusts most people, he's still there to do a job for Zayn, so no nicknames on Louis's part. 

They sit there, staring at each other – Harry biting his bottom lip, Louis doing his best not to crawl out of his skin. He doesn't know what's happening with himself right now. Something with their relationship, he's sure. Whether it's a something that will help him with the job or send him deeper into his self-destructive pattern Liam swears he has is debatable. With his luck it'll be the latter.

On the table, his phone pings, breaking them out of their daze. 

Harry moves, planting his feet on the floor. “I'm, uh, gonna go to back upstairs. If you've not got anything else you have to do, you can go. I won't be going anywhere for the rest of the day.”

“Uh, yeah,” Louis replies, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I might.”

“Okay.”

With that Harry's walking out of the room.

He's not sure what was happening with him and Harry, if it was anything at all, but he is sure that he's already halfway in love with Harry Styles.

**

“So you're not going?”

Niall frowns at him. “How many more times are you going to ask me that?”

“Until you say yes.”

“Well, keep asking, mate.” Niall replies, standing from the chair. “'cause my answer is still gonna be no.”

He walks into his kitchen, leaving Louis alone. “You're an arse,” Louis calls after him.

“Since you say that I'm not bringing you a beer,” Niall calls back. “Live up to my name and all.”

He does anyway, handing it to Louis as he sits back down. 

“Why do you want me there so badly?”

He doesn't take a drink, opting to set it on the coffee table, sinking into the sofa cushions. “I've got a bad feeling.”

Niall gulps down about half the bottle. He sets it down on the table next to Louis's and belches. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he says, “You constantly have a bad feeling.”

“Yes, well, I'm usually right.”

“So, you want me there to make you feel less paranoid.”

Louis purses his lips. “You being there won't make me less paranoid, but it would help insure my safety.”

Harry's safety, is what he doesn't say.

“You mean Harry's safety?” Niall says nonchalantly. 

“What!?” he exclaims. “No. Well, yeah. I mean, I'm supposed to be protecting him as part of this job. If I fail at that who knows how it could affect the overall thing, you know.”

He thinks he did a good job of recovering, but Niall snorts in amusement. “Yeah, sure. We'll pretend that's the reason.”

Louis glares. “So you won't come.”

Niall shakes his head. “Sorry, mate. It's invitation only. And those invites are usually only for people who've donated.”

“Then make a last minute donation,” Louis only half begs.

“Nope.”

“Have Liam get you in,” he suggests. “He can do that sort of thing.”

“Nope.”

“Niall.”

“No. I don't like these sorts of things. I'm not going.” He grabs his beer and finishes it off before adding, “And you're just being paranoid. Nothing is going to happen. You'll be fine.”

Niall's a fucking liar. He loves these sorts of things. He loves socializing with alcohol in his hand. He was born born it, Louis thinks. These sorts of things are Niall's element, but Niall seems to have his mind made up. Not to mention, Niall's more than likely right about him being paranoid. He won't admit that to him, though.

“Fine, don't come.”

“Wasn't planning on it.”

“Hey, let me ask you something,” he says when he remembers his conversation with Harry the other day. 

“Go on,” Niall nods.

“Harry mentioned that he knows some of the people at the office weren't too happy with him taking over. Have you heard anything?”

Niall scratches the back of his neck. “Nope. Not a thing. Not that I'd think they'd talk about it openly.”

Louis hums in disappointment. 

Him and Paul have discussed it a handful of times. They both think it's someone there, but neither of them have anything to go on and it's just a hunch, but it's about the only thing that makes sense to either of them.

“How is Harry?” Niall asks. “Haven't seen him in a couple of days.”

“Fine I guess,” he shrugs. “Although, I did have a really weird conversation with him the other day.”

Niall cocks an eyebrow. “With Harry? That's not surprising.”

Louis frowns. “No, but this was weird even for him.”

“This sounds interesting.” Niall repositions himself so his body is facing Louis. “Do tell.”

So Louis does. He tells Niall how weird Harry was acting during such a short interaction. He's feigning mild curiosity the whole time. He doesn't need Niall to know that he _actually_ cares, though he has a sneaking suspicion that Niall may suspect something. 

Niall nods along the whole time, brow furrowed.

“Anyway, I'm not sure what the whole thing was about,” he finishes, leaning further into the sofa. “I'm kind of starting to wonder if maybe this is around the time she died.”

Niall's shaking his head before Louis finishes. “Nah, mate. She died sometime in October. He told me once.”

Louis breathes deeply. “Then what the hell was that whole thing about?”

Niall grins like a maniac. “It sounds to me,” he begins, “that Harry just wanted to talk to you.”

Louis freezes, hand halfway through his hair. “I don't think that's it,” he disagrees more for himself than anything.

He already knows that Harry has a crush on him. Niall told him as much and Harry's behavior when he thinks Louis isn't looking is a giveaway too. He knows this, but he doesn't _need_ to know that Harry's making up things just so he can talk to him because that somehow means more than the lingering glances.

“I do,” Niall says, clearly amused by the situation. “And he does like flowers, so.” Niall shrugs. “But yeah, I definitely think he just wanted to talk to you.”

Louis sighs, running his hands down his face.

“Look, I think it's a good thing,” Niall continues. “It means he actually wants you around. He trusts you to some degree at this point. It shouldn't be too hard now.”

And that's...He knows this, has for a while, but he's not been allowing himself to think of the implications of Harry trusting him. It means entirely way to much. It's entirely way too detrimental to both him and Harry that Harry trusts him like this. He thinks about it as little as possible.

“It was still fucking weird,” he mumbles.

Niall shrugs. “He's a weird one. You going to drink that?” he asks, motioning toward Louis's forgotten beer.

“Nah, you can have it. Gotta get home, anyway,” he answers, standing.

Niall leans forward, grabbing the beer. “You just need to relax, mate. That's all.”

“Well, we can't all be as relaxed as you, now can we?”

It earns him a kick as he walks by. 

“Please, you wish you were me. I'm fuckin' fabulous.”

“You're wrong about that, Horan.”

Even when he's in the hall with the door to Niall's flat closed, he can still hear his laughter.

**

He'd woken up this morning with his bad feeling even stronger. He'd almost begged Harry to stay home, but he figured there'd be no convincing him, especially when he didn't have a good enough reason. He doesn't think “Harry, I've a bad feeling about this” would go over too well.

His tour of this place earlier with Paul hadn't done anything to calm his nerves. If anything it made the feeling worse. The building is huge, with twenty ways in and out just on the ground floor and that's not counting windows. 

Paul was right to be worried about security. It isn't very tight, with only ten of the doors being covered. Sure, no one is supposed to come in through any of the unoccupied doors since you have to technically go through the main entrance. Also, they should technically only let you in if you have an invitation, but Louis knows there are many ways around that. He knows Liam's gotten a long list of people into these sorts of events with his skills.

With that being said, they're halfway through this thing and nothing has happened, which is a relief for Louis. Unfortunately, it also means he's done a lot of standing around, watching Harry from across the room. Which would be fine if it didn't mean he was actually _looking_ at Harry.

He's known from the first day that Harry is an attractive man, but he's absolutely stunning in his double-breasted jacket and tie. It's a black-tie event, which Harry wasn't too fond of because it meant he had to wear a tie and also button his shirt up all the way, but he's done it and _dear lord_. Maybe it's Louis sexual frustration starting to get to him because he's beginning to think he might be entertaining himself with his hand later in the privacy of his own home.

Honestly, it's a miracle Louis hasn't been too distracted by Harry tonight to do his job. 

But what's even more distracting about Harry – to Louis since he's sure nobody here knows Harry well enough to notice – is how it's so hard to tell he's uncomfortable. Louis knows he is, Harry told him as much when they'd first gotten here. But as he's interacting with people Harry's exuding confidence, smiling, and, to a person who doesn't know Harry, looking like he's having the time of his life.

It's an act. Even if Harry hadn't told him, Louis would be able to tell. It's the way he's clinging to his drink, his knuckles white at times. The way his shoulders hunch when he's alone even for a second. The way his eyes search the room for Louis.

Maybe that last one is Louis's imagination running wild, but he knows of at least once when he caught Harry's eye when Harry was looking slightly uncomfortable toward the beginning of this thing. Louis gave him a thumbs up. Harry smiled brightly at him, then returned to his conversation with a new found confidence.

Louis's glad Harry seems to be feeling somewhat better about this evening since Louis's not. The longer this night progresses the worse Louis's feeling gets.

Niall had told him the other day he was being paranoid and when he'd voiced his concern to Niall this morning that the feeling had only gotten worse, he'd brushed Louis off saying, “Stop being so fuckin' paranoid”, which was aggravating for Louis, but Niall's probably right. He is being paranoid. Nothing's going to happen.

It's as he finishes this thought that he sees him. 

On the other side of the room is a middle-aged man. No body else is paying this guy any attention. He looks normal, dressed in his suit and tie, like everyone else. Normally Louis wouldn't think twice about this guy, but what's got Louis's attention is how the guy is doing exactly what Louis is doing: standing against the wall, watching Harry.

He's not watching Harry in an acceptable way – not that Louis thinks there's an acceptable way for someone to watch Harry. He's watching Harry with an evil glint in his eyes, at least from what Louis can tell. He's across the room from Louis, but he can _tell_. 

Maybe Niall's right and Louis's just being paranoid.

Louis trains his eyes back on Harry. He's okay, still talking to the same two people, who Louis assumes is an old married couple. 

When Louis turns his attention back to the man, he's surprised to see the man staring at him, which does nothing to quell the vile rising in Louis's stomach. He does his best to give the man his best threatening look, but the guy doesn't flinch.

Right. So this is where he needs to get Harry out, paranoia or not.

He starts making his way toward Harry. Pushing past people, earning a lot of glares, he tries to get Harry's attention with the faces he's making since he doesn't think yelling across the room would work. He's failing at it, though, as Harry's paying no attention to him at all.

He gives up on trying to get Harry's attention, instead turning his attention back to the man while he walks. When he gets halfway to Harry, the man reaches into his jacket.

Fuck.

Louis's pulse quickens as he watches the guy pull out a gun.

 _Please don't point it Harry_ , Louis pleads in his head.

The man raises the gun, pointing it at Harry and Louis freezes. No body notices for half a second until a woman standing next to the man turns. She immediately sees the gun and starts screaming, which is not good for Louis or Harry because utter chaos happens.

People screaming and running in all directions, making it harder for Louis to cross the room when he starts trying to get to Harry again. 

He's not sure exactly when he makes the decision, but instead of going at Harry he starts running toward the man, who doesn't notice as he walks closer to Harry. He doesn't notice Louis coming at him until Louis's right up on him, knocking him to the ground.

There's the sound of a gun, more than likely from the man's gun, but the way Louis pushed into him, it shouldn't have hit anyone.

And just as Louis thinks he's taken control of the situation, there's more gunshots coming from multiple places throughout the room.

The man beneath him is struggling trying to reach his gun that he'd dropped when Louis knocked him to the floor. He doesn't have time for this. He has to get Harry out of here and make sure he's safe.

He fists his hand in the man's collar, lifting his head up a bit then punches the guy with everything he's got. It takes him three well-placed hits, but the man goes unconscious. Liam would be proud.

Louis lets him fall back to the ground, reaching over him and grabbing the abandoned gun. He thinks about using it, but remembers he has his own gun – he's not supposed to have it, but Paul and everyone else can fuck right off – he'll feel more comfortable with it. 

Still kneeling over the unconscious body, he reaches under his jacket grabs his gun, replacing it with the other one. 

Before standing he does a quick search of the room. There's two shooters up on the second floor balcony that over looks the room. He could try taking them out from down here, but his aim isn't _that_ good. It's hard to tell because people are still running in all directions, but it looks like there's three shooters on this floor, all hidden behind the stone columns. 

Five shooters total. There's no way in hell he can take out all five on his own without other people getting injured, while also trying to get Harry out.

_Harry._

He's seem him out of the corner of his eye. He's alive, thank god. Turning his head, he watches as Harry ducks behind a fallen table, shielding him from the shooters. Good, ten points to him. 

The only problem is, Louis's across the room and the shooters must know of his presence because he took out their friend. There's not anything he can do but hope as he leaps to his feet quickly, kicking the man in the head for good measure.

The closest shooter to him isn't all that close, but he'll have to pass him to get to Harry, so being the reckless person Louis is, he starts running toward Harry's direction, aiming his gun at the man.

As he's coming up on a table with champagne glasses, a bullet nearly misses him, shattering a glass. He brings his free arm up to protect his face from the flying glass as more glasses start to shatter due to a barrage of gunfire. He twists his body a bit, arm still covering his face and aims for the shooter on the balcony that's aiming at him. 

Somehow he's lucky enough to hit the guy in the shoulder. It's not his shooting shoulder, but the injury is enough to prevent him from firing at Louis long enough for him to finish crossing the room.

When he gets within distance, he takes a running leap. It probably wasn't his smartest idea because there's broken glass and porcelain scattered all over the floor and he's sure there's some embedding in his skin and ripping his clothes, but he's at Harry now.

He quickly gets to his knees, kneeling in front of Harry, who's backed against the table, wide-eyed and pale.

“Harry!” he exclaims, dropping his gun to grab hold of Harry's face. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Oh god.”

The guns are still going off all around them, muffling Harry's “yes”, but he's nodding. Nodding to what Louis doesn't know, but they need to get out of here.

He drops his hands from Harry's face, grabbing his gun in his right hand. “Harry, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?”

Harry nods.

The amount of trust Louis sees in his eyes is overwhelming, but he doesn't have time to dwell on that as a bullet is hitting one of the table legs.

“Okay. We need to get out of here. You're going to take my hand and we're going to make a run for the nearest door. You understand?”

Harry nods again.

“Give me a second.”

Louis cautiously peeks over the edge of the table. The nearest exit is the main door. It's not ideal because god knows who could be waiting out there, but trying to get through a door that's further away is bad because they'd be out in the open for a lot longer.

The main door it is.

He ducks back behind the table. Taking a deep breath to collect himself, he grabs Harry's hand, ignoring how warm it is and how it just _fits_ with his because _now is not the fucking time_. 

“Now!”

He takes off toward the door dragging Harry behind him. Bullets are flying in every direction, Louis shooting a few times of his own at one of the men that's moved to crouch behind a chair.

He manages to get outside without one of them getting injured, but he doesn't stop running as a parked car's side-view mirror shatters.

 _Fucking hell._

They're being chased.

For a brief second he doesn't know what he's going to do, but then he remembers. He'd briefly had a conversation about this with Liam the other day and Liam insisted that he have a car planted in case something should happen. Thank god for Liam being more paranoid than Louis is.

It's a black Vokswagen Jetta. It's inconspicuous, which is good, not the best looking thing, but it's good for the job of being lost.

Liam told him he parked it a block away, which, again, isn't the best, but he'll take it.

He continues dragging Harry down the block, aware of the fact their still being shot at. There's no place for them to duck into to hide for even a second for a breather. Not that he needs one. Either it's the adrenaline or the running every morning with Harry that's got him not vomiting up his lungs. He's not sure, but he's certainly glad he's been able to run like this.

He spots the car. He has a moment of not knowing how to go about this because both his hands are full, but he remembers that Liam left it unlocked.

When they reach the car he shoves Harry in the back seat. Slamming the door and dodging bullets, he quickly gets in the drivers seat, pulling out the key.

He gets the car started as quickly as possible, the tires squealing as he pulls away.

He's driving hectically, breaking about every traffic law there is, but he watched through the rear-view mirror as the men hijacked a car, following after them and continuing their shooting. 

“What the hell, Harry?” he yells over his shoulder as he runs a red light. “Why do these people want you dead? What did you do? What the hell did you _do_?” he spits at him.

He glances in the mirror, seeing Harry shaking his head, muttering “I don't know” over and over again.

Fuck.

He's probably in shock. Being shot at the first time will do that to a person and having Louis yelling at him isn't helping. He can't do anything to help him right now, though, except get him someplace safe, so he keeps driving.

He's not sure how long it takes – Harry's thrown up in the backseat twice – but he's managed to lose the people trying to kill them – _Harry_ , he reminds himself. Although, these people probably want Louis dead now that they know he's protecting Harry, so good for him.

_Where do I take him?_

Home isn't an option. There's a possibility there could be people waiting for them there, which no. He's not willing to take a chance with that. But he doesn't know where else to go.

He pulls over, leaving the car running. He looks behind him. Harry's still leaning forward, arms propped on knees. He's breathing heavily, but less than before, so that's good.

He turns back around, taking out his phone.

Liam.

Liam will know where they can go.

He sends a text to Liam saying, **something happened need a place**.

Then he sends a text to Paul saying he's got Harry, they're okay and not to worry, which he will anyway so it's kind of pointless to add that bit, but he does anyway.

As soon as he hits send on Paul's message, Liam answers.

There's a self-service laundry close by, according to Liam, and they should wait there until Liam checks out the house.

A fucking self-service laundry. 

It's not the ideal place, but it's the best option the have.

**

Harry was silent the whole way to the place, which was not as close as Liam led him to believe. It's a rundown building, the fluorescent sign blinking incessantly. It almost looks completely deserted and also very dirty.

Internally groaning because he hates places like this, he parks the car. When he moves to get Harry out he still looks pale and like he could be sick again at the drop of a hat, but he's able to move, so Louis counts that as a win.

“Sorry about the location,” Louis says, as he's steadying Harry as he stands. “Nearest place I figured people wouldn't ask to many questions.”

It's a lie, but Harry does crack a small smile.

“You okay?” he asks, shutting the car door.

“Think so,” Harry mumbles, voice raw from being sick. “Yeah.”

“Let's get you inside.”

He places a hand on the small of Harry's back, guiding him inside. 

As they walk through the door, Louis does a quick scan of the place. He was right about it being dirty. The walls are dingy and the floors are stained with something that looks very similar to blood. 

There's a young man standing behind the counter. He looks stoned and he's not paying attention, so he's not much of a threat. There's a woman with a little girl occupying the area with the seats. He's got half a mind to tell them to move since there's seven chairs and they've literally taken over everyone of them, but he's got to deal with Harry.

There's no one else in the place, so he leads Harry toward the back, instructing him to lean against one of the dryers. 

Once Harry's situated, Louis starts pacing, carefully avoiding seeing his reflection in the doors of the machines. He knows he looks manic, hair sticking up all over the place from where he'd run his hand through it repeatedly on the drive here. He's sure he feels blood on his cheek. He's not sure where that's from, but he's not going to look.

“You sure you're okay?” he asks again when Harry leans forward, bracing himself on his knees. “You going to throw up again?”

Harry shakes his head. “Trying to process,” he responds, raising slowly.

“Not trying to bombard you or anything, but are you sure you have no idea what these people want?”

Harry looks at him, brow furrowed. “No idea. Believe me.”

He's still pacing the small isle of machines they're in. He has no idea what to do from here. He knew as soon as Zayn suggested Louis do this, it was a bad idea. He told Paul he had a bad idea about this event. He needs to start listening to his first instinct and stop letting people convince him he's being irrational.

But that's really the least of his problems. He's doing a job for Zayn that wasn't supposed to put his life in danger like this. One could argue that he should've just gotten the fuck out of there, sure, but like _Harry_.

He couldn't have left Harry there, personal reasons or not. It's not who he is. It could've been anyone and Louis would've risked his life getting them out of there.

Maybe.

“It's fucking hot in here,” he hears Harry say.

It's really not, but he guesses it could be the shock.

He turns around when he reaches the end of the isle. When he does, he freezes.

Harry's taken off his jacket and his white button-up is soaked through with blood. 

“Harry,” he says cautiously, taking a step forward.

He looks confused, but he follows Louis's eye-line, eyes widening when he sees his shoulder. He sways, stumbling into a washer. 

“Harry, stay with me,” Louis urges as he rushes to Harry, wrapping an arm around his waist.

He grabs Harry's jacket with his spare hand and starts leading Harry back out to the car. Harry's a fucking giant and pretty much dead weight since he's barely conscious, so Louis's having a hard time maneuvering Harry back into the car.

He doesn't know how much blood he's lost or if the bullet hit a major artery or muscle or anything. He doesn't _know_ and he's starting to panic.

He forces Harry into the backseat again not caring to avoid the puke on the floor. 

Once he's got the car going he's not sure where to go.

The most realistic place and probably the best for Harry would be the hospital, but they'd ask questions there. Questions Louis can't and won't answer. Questions whose answers could lead to bad things for Louis, like him being arrested.

But there's no other place for him to take Harry. He needs medical attention and there's no way for Louis to assess the damage. Not to mention he knows nothing medical at all.

He could call Paul, but he's probably busy and would most likely have Louis's head, which he's quite fond of and would like to keep.

Niall!

For a while Niall had taken some med classes and Louis knows for a fact that if a natural disaster happened Niall has enough medical supplies in his home to save half of Britain. 

One glance back at Harry, who looks to be completely unconscious and bleeding more profusely now and he makes his decision – Louis spins the car around and starts driving in the direction of Niall's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any questions or want to talk: [thoughtlessblogger](http://www.thoughtlessblogger.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get even more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you or someone you know ever gets shot, don't be an idiot and take them to a professional. I'm also positive there are medical inaccuracies in this chapter, which I apologize for.  
> Again comments and kudos are appreciated. If you want to chat, come find me on tumblr.  
> Enjoy!

He'd managed to get Harry up to Niall's building with little struggle – which he's attributing to the adrenaline – but by the time he's dragging Harry out of the lift his arms are aching and he's moving slower and any of Niall's neighbors could walk out and see Louis dragging a bloodied Harry around and think something strange is up. 

Thankfully, Niall answers the door after Louis's first knock, which cuts back on the chance of them being seen. Not to mention, Niall's actually home. It didn't occur to Louis until he was pulling Harry out of the car that there was a chance Niall may not be here, which could have really fucked things up even more. Had that been the case Louis's not entirely sure what he would've done.

Niall had been home, which is great, except he's still standing in the doorway, berating Louis for blowing their cover.

“- like you didn't even think! What will Za-.”

“Niall!” Louis yells. “He's unconscious and bleeding,” he says, nodding toward Harry. Louis's losing his grip on him and more of Harry's blood is getting on him. “Can we talk about this later? He needs help.”

Niall, still red faced, softens at that, moving out of the way to allow Louis to walk through the door.

As he shuts the door, he says, “Just put him on the sofa there.” He motions to the lounge area, where his pristine, white sofa sets.

“Oh your white sofa?” Louis asks, already gingerly depositing Harry there. “The same one you yelled at me for eating on?”

“Do you want to lug him to another room?” Niall asks, walking down the hall. 

Well, no.

As he's waiting for Niall to return, he takes his jacket off, throwing it over the back of one of the armchairs. He pulls the coffee table closer to the sofa. He sits down, removing his tie, slinging it in the direction of his jacket, and undoing the first couple of buttons on his shirt.

Harry looks unbelievably peaceful. If Louis couldn't see his shoulder and wasn't covered in Harry's blood, he'd think Harry was sleeping. He's still paler than normal, which Louis's sure is due to the loss of blood, but he's gorgeous even like this.

_No._

He can't think that. Not right now when Harry's life could still be in danger. 

He shouldn't be thinking like that all. Not about Harry.

“Alright, move over,” Niall says, walking back into the room with duffel-bag. “What happened?”

Louis scoots down the table, knocking some magazines in the floor. “He was shot,” Louis says causing Niall to snort.

“I'm going to need your help.” Niall sits down, laying the bag between them on the floor. “We need to get his shirt off.” He leans forward, motioning for Louis to help. “And I'll just replace the sofa. Not a big a deal. I can afford it.”

He removes Harry's tie, throwing it at Louis, who swats it out of the way, then he starts unbuttoning his shirt. Once it's undone all the way, revealing Harry's chest and stomach, he stands, moving to the arm of the sofa.

“I'll lift him up, you pull the shirt off,” Niall instructs.

Louis gets up, crouching over Harry.

“When we get done here,” Niall starts, carefully lifting Harry. “We're going to talk about this.”

Harry grimaces when Louis starts pulling the shirt away from his shoulder. “I'm sure we are, Niall. And I'm perfectly willing to.”

“Good.”

When Louis gets Harry's shirt off, he can see the small hole the blood is coming from. He's seen worse, but that doesn't do anything to the swell of panic that hits him. Obviously, he knew Harry was shot, but he wasn't expecting to actually see the source of where the blood was coming from.

“Alright. There's an exit wound, which is great,” Niall says. “Louis, I need to you trade me spots. Make sure you don't lay him back.”

Louis takes over for Niall, taking great measures to make sure he keeps Harry sitting up. Niall's puttering around in his bag, pulling out gauze, tape, and a needle and thread. He's sure there's more in the bag. He's hoping they don't need more than that.

Niall grabs gauze, holding it out to Louis. “I need you to apply pressure to the wound.”

“Uh, Niall,” Louis starts, eying Harry. “I can't keep him sat up and hold the gauze at the same time.”

Niall's brow furrows, but his face immediately lights up. He leans over Harry, grabbing a throw pillow that's at his feet. “Use this. Put it behind his back.”

It takes a while, but Louis's able to get the position of the pillow right, propping Harry up. Niall hands him the gauze, then goes back to the bag.

“Make sure you hold it tight, but like, don't hurt him.” 

Louis does what he's told, blood immediately seeping through. He reaches out, grabbing some of the gauze Niall's sat in Harry's lap. He adds it. This time it stays white longer.

Niall's pulled out cotton-swabs and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “I hope he doesn't wake up during this. Hurts like a bitch.”

With that, he's holding the cotton-swab over the hole, pouring alcohol on it. Harry grimaces again, but he doesn't move or make a sound. Louis's glad for that. He's not sure how to handle a situation where Harry's awake while they're trying to stitch him up.

They're quiet as Niall cleans the wound, then moves to clean the needle. 

Louis should've noticed. He should've known that Harry was hurt. How could he not have? Harry must have been in an excruciating amount of pain, but he hadn't seemed it. He guesses it was probably the adrenaline, though he's by far not an expert on these things.

But he still should've _known_. He should've been able to tell that something was wrong. It's his _job _.__

__“Stop, okay,” Niall says, breaking the silence. He stays focused on the spot he's stitching when he adds, “There's no way you could've prevented this.”_ _

__“If I would've known sooner I could've -.”_ _

__Niall shakes his head. “No. He still would have been in the same state.”_ _

__“Yes, but -.”_ _

__“The black of his jacket made it hard to see the blood. And before you say that you still should've known, no. You were being shot at and needed to get away. It's lucky you were even able to think to bring him here.”_ _

__He could argue – wants to argue – but there's no point. Niall's mind is set. He can tell by the set of Niall's jaw and the straight line of his back even though he's partially bent over Harry._ _

__Niall leans back, wiping at what he's just finished stitching. “Trade me spots. Need to do the other side.”_ _

__Louis moves, keeping his hand on the gauze, taking Niall's spot on the coffee table._ _

__“You can let go of that,” Niall says._ _

__He gingerly removes the blood soaked gauze, watching as blood continues seeping from the wound on Harry's shoulder. He sets the gauze on the pile of used cloth and gauze, focusing on Harry's face._ _

__He still looks peaceful, but every now and then his face twists into something resembling pain._ _

__“You know, I don't actually need you anymore.”_ _

__Louis glances up at him, raising an eyebrow._ _

__“Like, I don't need help,” Niall explains, never taking his eyes of Harry. “If you want to go sit in the kitchen. Calm down a bit.”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“Louis, go sit in the kitchen and calm down a bit,” Niall says calmly, but firm enough that Louis knows it's not a suggestion._ _

__He doesn't move at first. He doesn't want to leave Harry – wants to make sure Harry's okay – but a pointed look from Niall and he's reluctantly standing, making his way to the kitchen._ _

__He knows there's nothing he can do for Harry now. He'd only be getting in Niall's way, but he feels so fucking guilty._ _

__Like, yeah, there's no way he could have prevented the shooting, but he should have realized sooner than he did that Harry was hurt. And what if he hadn't found out at all? What would've happened then? But he did do his “job”. He got Harry out alive and that's all that should matter._ _

__There's so much more that matters, though. Like now whoever it is that wants Harry dead now knows about Louis's existence, so what's that mean for him? What's it mean for Zayn and this job now that Louis's compromised the whole thing by bringing Harry to Niall's? But the thing that he's most concerned about is what it means that he was so panicked over the possibility of Harry being hurt._ _

__He's starting to care too much – he was already caring too much, but before he could push it away. He was able to ignore it until he'd lie in bed at night, then all his feelings for and about Harry would come crashing back to the forefront of his mind, rendering him sleepless._ _

__Now there's no ignoring it. There's no ignoring how panicked and out of his mind he'd been. Sure he was able to get them out of the building, get them to the car, and lose the shooters, but he certainly wasn't thinking right when he decided to bring Harry to Niall's._ _

__His panic is interrupted when Niall comes in, immediately going to the sink to wash his hands._ _

__“He's gonna be fine,” he says. “He'll definitely be in pain, but it won't be too bad.”_ _

__Louis doesn't look up from the table when he mumbles, “That's good.”_ _

__He hears the water shut off. “Want to talk about it?” Niall asks._ _

__He doesn't._ _

__“Talk about what?” he replies, looking up._ _

__Niall's leaning against the counter, arms crossed, calm expression on his face. “Want to talk about how Zayn's probably going to kill you?”_ _

__“Fuck,” he breathes out, dropping his head into his hands._ _

__He hadn't thought about it too much, too concerned about Harry's well-being to spare a thought about Zayn. He's dead. He jeopardized the whole job. Zayn is going to hunt him down, torture him, and then leave him in a ditch to die._ _

__He could try to run, hide out somewhere until Zayn's had time to calm down. It wouldn't work. Zayn would force Liam to help hunt him down, making things a lot worse, just proving to the both of them that Louis's incapable of pulling a job without fucking up somehow._ _

__Also, _Harry_. The whole fucking reason he's in this mess to begin with._ _

__“What am I going to do?” he says, running his hands down his face._ _

__“He's not going to be happy.”_ _

__“You think I don't know that!” he spits._ _

__It's unfair to Niall, really. He could've turned them away, refusing to help. He probably should have. He would have been safe from the wrath of Zayn if he did._ _

__“He's going to kill me.”_ _

__“He is,” Niall agrees._ _

__Louis blinks slowly up at him. “Thank you.”_ _

__Niall shrugs in response, like helping Louis with a gunshot victim that they're supposed to steal from is an everyday thing. “Why'd you bring him here?”_ _

__He runs a hand through his hair. “I was panicking. Didn't want to take him to somewhere they'd ask questions.”_ _

__“I'm asking questions,” Niall points out._ _

__“Yeah, but you're not going to kill me or throw me in prison.”_ _

__Niall crosses his legs at the ankles, asking, “What are you going to do when he wakes up?”_ _

__Louis opens his mouth to reply, but it's not his voice he hears._ _

__“Yeah, what are you going to do when he wakes up?”_ _

__Louis's eyes widen slowly. Niall straightens up, dropping his arms to his side._ _

__“What's going on?” Harry asks from behind him._ _

__He sounds like he's on the verge of panicking and Louis wants to calm him, but he can't bring himself to turn around. He can't bring himself to face Harry and the inevitability of coming clean about the job._ _

__“Louis?” Harry's hesitant voice asks._ _

__Even with it's hesitancy, Louis can hear the all-out trust Harry has for him. It makes his blood run cold, but he slowly gets to his feet. He makes eye contact with Niall and after a brief moment, Niall nods, never breaking eye contact with him._ _

__It's a high pressure situation if there ever was one. Louis saying the wrong thing is highly probable, one wrong move and this goes completely to shit. If he so much as thinks the wrong thing here, him and Niall will mostly likely end up in prison._ _

__When he turns around, he immediately sees Harry standing in the doorway, clutching at his hurt shoulder. He didn't take the time to put his shirt back on, so Louis can see the bandages on his shoulder perfectly. He's wide eyed and shaking, whether that's from the pain, stress or fear._ _

__Louis takes a deep breath, bracing himself for the conversation to come._ _

__“Harry, you're okay,” he says slowly. “You were shot in the shoulder.” He hears Niall sigh behind him. “But you're okay. You're going to be okay. Niall fixed you up.”_ _

__As soon as it's out of his mouth he realizes what he said. This conversation's potential of turning bad just got worse._ _

__Harry's brow furrows in confusion. “Niall?” His eyes flicker to Niall then back to Louis a couple of times before settling on Niall. “I thought your name was Carey?”_ _

__“His name is Niall,” Louis says, drawing Harry's attention back to him._ _

__“I don't understand.” Harry's shaking his head, looking a minute away from running from them. “I don't understand.” Louis didn't think it was possible, but Harry's eyes get even wider. “Are you the ones sending me death threats? I don't understand. What do you want?”_ _

___Fuck._ _ _

__This isn't what he was expecting, but he understands. He understands how and why Harry would think what he's thinking. He knows that if he'd been in the position Harry was when he had woken up, he'd be thinking the same thing._ _

__And Louis's made it worse by bringing Niall into it. How's he supposed to explain that to Harry? Will Harry even believe or trust him?_ _

__“Harry,” he says, taking a step forward._ _

__Harry takes a step back, eying Louis. “Don't,” he warns._ _

__Louis freezes. “I don't want you dead, Harry.”_ _

__“How do I know that?” he counters with._ _

__“Why would I save you, have Niall patch you up, just to kill you?”_ _

__Harry fish-mouths for a second. “I don't understand him, though,” he says, pointing at Niall._ _

__“Niall's my guy. I've planted him at your office because there's a chance someone who expected to take over after your father is pissed off and wants you dead,” he lies, hoping Harry won't notice that Niall was hired before Louis. “Also, it doesn't hurt having an extra pair of eyes on you. Paul doesn't know about Niall and I'd like to keep it that way,” he adds._ _

__He doesn't seem to notice anything wrong, though, as he visually calms. He stays where he is, but he's still regarding them with a skeptical look._ _

__“Why don't you want Paul to know?”_ _

__“Because he hired me thinking I could do the job on my own. If he knew I brought Niall in, he'd probably fire me,” he lies easily, keeping eye contact with Harry._ _

__“I wouldn't let him,” Harry says, causing Niall to snort. “Why _do_ you need Niall?”_ _

__“I'm your bodyguard, everyone knows it. They don't know Niall,” he explains._ _

__“If it is someone at the company,” Niall starts, coming to stand even with Louis. “Planting me there helps because like Lou said, nobody knows me. I can get close to them. There's a possibility they'd try to get the new guy in on their plan so they can have someone to blame things on when things go south for them.”_ _

__Thank fuck for Niall. Louis owes him everything in the world after tonight._ _

__“So I'm basically letting a guy with no experience handle my money at my company?” Harry asks, and Louis's positive there's a small smile playing at Harry's lips._ _

__“I know how to handle money,” Niall answers. “And I've done my research. No need to worry.”_ _

__Harry gives a slight nod, then turns his attention back to Louis with a furrowed brow. “I still don't understand. Why bring me here instead of a hospital?”_ _

__“I was panicking,” Louis answers, this time truthfully. “Be glad I even got you here.”_ _

__“Good to know you're the one protecting me,” Harry retorts, stepping further into the room._ _

__“Yeah, well you're alive, aren't you?”_ _

__“Right,” Niall says, clapping his hands together, taking a step toward Harry. “How are you, like mentally?”_ _

__Harry's brow furrows again. “I'm fine.”_ _

__“No you're not,” Niall responds. “Believe me, this isn't my first time dealing with people who've been shot at. There's always a psychological -.”_ _

__“I'm fine,” Harry says again. “I mean, I'm in pain and I'm tired. I just want a shower and sleep.”_ _

__“I've got some painkillers I can give you for the pain.”_ _

__“Uh, listen,” Louis says, drawing their attention to him. “I've had a thought. He's tired and in pain and I don't think he should be moved around too much. I've still got things to deal with.”_ _

__“What are ya gettin' at?”_ _

__“I was thinking,” he begins, turning his body toward Niall, “that he stay with you. Just for tonight.”_ _

__Niall considers him for a moment, before nodding. “Not a problem. Probably a good idea anyway so I can look after the wound and all.”_ _

__“Do I not get a say?”_ _

__They both turn to Harry, who's now letting his hurt arm dangle at his side._ _

__“Obviously, you can go home,” Louis says._ _

__Harry immediately starts shaking his head. “No. I'm tired and want to sleep. Just like being asked.”_ _

__“Good. I'll show you where the guest room is.” Niall turns back to Louis. “You okay? Need me to check you out or anything?”_ _

__Louis's shaking his head before Niall finishes. “I'm good. Just, you know, take care of him.”_ _

__Niall raises an eyebrow, asking too many questions Louis doesn't feel comfortable with. “I will.” Niall spins around to face Harry. “Alright, lad, let's get ya a shower.”_ _

__He starts ushering Harry out of the room so quickly that Louis almost misses the “good-bye” that Harry throws him._ _

__“Keep in mind you can't get yer shoulder wet, but I've got...”_ _

__Niall's voice trails off as he walks Harry through the flat, leaving Louis alone._ _

__He needs to go talk to Paul, let him know that Harry is okay. How he's going to do that without having Harry with him is beyond him, but he's not making Harry move around the city in the state he's in._ _

__Fuck this night, he thinks as he lets himself out of Niall's.__

 _ _**__

 _ _Paul's waiting outside the house when Louis pulls up. Louis had thought about just showing up, but since it's very likely Paul knows what went down tonight he figured coming in unannounced without Harry wouldn't be the best idea, so he'd let Paul know he was on his way._ _

__He parks the car, dropping his head back, closing his eyes. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever it is that's about to happen._ _

__He gets out of the car, pocketing the keys._ _

__“Where's Harry?” Paul asks when Louis walks past him into the house._ _

__“Not here,” he answers._ _

__“I fucking see that, Winchester. Where is he?”_ _

__Once inside, Louis turns to face Paul. “He's okay.” Paul starts to interrupt, but Louis continues. “He's safe and with a friend. He was injured. It wasn't anything too bad and he's okay.”_ _

__Paul still doesn't look happy. Crossing his arms over his chest, he asks, “Why didn't you bring him here?”_ _

__“Wasn't sure how safe it was,” he explains. “Also, Harry was tired and he's been through a lot, so I thought it better if he stay where he was. Believe me, I wouldn't have left him if I thought there was a chance he wouldn't be safe.”_ _

__Paul regards him with narrowed eyes. “You'll bring him home tomorrow?”_ _

__“Of course.”_ _

__Paul relaxes, but only mildly. “What happened?”_ _

__He doesn't answer, instead walking into the lounge. He flops down in one of the armchairs._ _

__Paul's followed him. “I mean, I know obviously. I'm just wondering why you took Harry wherever it is he's at.”_ _

__“I didn't know he'd been hurt at first,” he starts, as Paul stiffly sits in the chair across from him. “These guys chased us out of the building. Car chase for a while. I lost them eventually, then continued driving for a while. I stopped at a self-service laundry so I could figure out what to do from there. It's where I realized he was hurt. I took him to a friend that lives close by that's a doctor.”_ _

__It's another lie, but at this point they're coming easier than any of the lies he's ever told in the past._ _

__“Let me ask you something,” Louis starts, probably about to dig himself deeper into his hole. “You said- you told me when I asked about it that you didn't think anything was going to happen. I asked you because you seemed off and you denied it. Something happened.”_ _

__“Is there a question there?” Paul asks maudlin._ _

__“Did you think something was going to happen tonight?” he demands. “Because I swear if you did and still let him go, I don't care how long you've been head of his security I will personally-.”_ _

__Paul cuts him off, holding a hand up. “Lad, I really didn't know. I didn't think there would be,” he says, calming Louis. “I probably should have expected it, but I didn't.”_ _

__Louis not entirely sure he believes Paul, but there's not much he can do about it. There may not be anything he could do at all, especially since there'd be no evidence and if he just went around telling people that Harry's head of security is out to get Harry, he's pretty sure people would laugh in his face and tell him to stop being paranoid._ _

__“I think,” Paul begins, “that it's time for you to start living here.”_ _

__It's not what Louis was expecting from this situation, not right now anyway. He expected it to happen at some point, just not this soon, but he knows Paul has his reasons and what happened tonight probably jump started all of Paul's plans._ _

__He doesn't want to move in. He already spends too much time around Harry as it is. He can't imagine how much more he'll be seeing Harry if they're living in the same house. A world where Louis is living in Harry's house with him is not a world where things end up okay for Louis._ _

__Zayn will like it, though, because it means Louis's getting closer to finding Harry's art collection._ _

__“Yeah, okay.”_ _

__“We'll talk more about it tomorrow,” Paul continues. “For now I think you should go home and rest.”_ _

__Paul stands, motioning for Louis to follow._ _

__He does, follows Paul back into the hall._ _

__“I shouldn't have made him go,” Paul says, as he's opening the door._ _

__“He would've gone whether you wanted him to or not.”_ _

__In Louis's pocket his phone dings at the same time Paul says, “You're right about that. He's a stubborn one.”_ _

__“Almost as stubborn as me,” Louis mutters, stepping outside. He turns to face Paul. “I'll let you know when we'll be here tomorrow. I don't think it'll be anytime before noon.”_ _

__“I'll be waiting.”_ _

__With that he nods, shutting the door._ _

__He's not sure how long he's staring at the door before he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath._ _

__As he turns around, he pulls out his phone. The text is from Zayn._ _

__**Liam and I are at yours. We're waiting.** _ _

___Fuck._ _ _

__Zayn knows. He knows Louis almost botched up the job tonight. Does he know why? Surely not. There's no way. Even though he knows it's impossible for Zayn to know what's going on in his head, he can't help but worry._ _

__All he wants to do is go home and sleep. He can't. Not when Zayn and Liam are there and God only knows what's going to happen once Louis walks in the door._ _

__Groaning, he pockets his phone and heads for his car.__

 _ _**__

 _ _As soon as he opens the door Liam's yelling at him._ _

__“Why the fuck did you take Styles to Niall's?”_ _

__Liam's standing just in front of the door, like he was waiting in that spot to pounce on Louis as soon as he could. He's gesticulating wildly, face red from anger._ _

__Over Liam's shoulder he can see Zayn – jaw clenched and eyes narrowed – standing further back watching Liam yell at him._ _

__“You almost blew our cover!” Liam continues. “Hell! You might've since you left the guy with Niall! It was stupid, Tomlinson! I mean, how much more reckless can you get? Do you not care?”_ _

__He's got a headache. He's tired, groggy, annoyed, frazzled and a thousand other things. He almost died tonight. He's not exactly in the mood to deal with Liam's anger issues._ _

__Louis turns, rolling his eyes, to shut the door behind him. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose, turning back to Liam._ _

__“Obviously, you don't! It's not that fuc-.”_ _

__“Liam,” he sighs, letting go of his nose. “I need you to stop yelling. I almost died tonight. I'm not in the mood.”_ _

__He opens his eyes in time to see Liam's features soften at that, but almost immediately Liam shakes his head and he's back to being angry Liam._ _

__“You wouldn't have come so close to dying if you'd just gotten out of there.”_ _

__Louis snaps his head up at that. Was Liam honestly implying that he should have left Harry there on his own? Surely he wasn't. That's not how Liam usually is._ _

__“Oh right! And let those bastards kill him? I don't fucking think so!”_ _

__As soon as it's out he realizes he shouldn't have reacted that way. Not around Zayn and Liam, anyway. They don't know. They don't know how Louis's feeling about Harry – about this job. They don't know that Louis's secretly happy that he was there because it meant he was the one to save Harry not someone else who had the potential of failing at it._ _

__Liam narrows his eyes. “It would've been better than you dying.”_ _

__“So you'd rather an innocent person die?”_ _

__“It wouldn't have been you!”_ _

__Somewhere deep inside him, he realizes this is Liam's way of saying “I was worried sick. I'm glad you're not dead. Please don't get in that situation ever again. I love you”. It's the same way he reacted in Sao Paulo. In another circumstance, he'd be touched, but Louis's not exactly in his right mind and Liam's suggesting that he should've let Harry die._ _

__That's not okay with him, but he can't say that because things would just get a hundred percent messier than they already are._ _

__“What would we do about the job then?” he counters with. “Harry'd be dead! We still wouldn't know where this shit is!”_ _

__“We would've found it when they were cleaning out his estate!”_ _

__“Okay!” Zayn speaks up, stepping in between them. “I think we all need to calm a bit and stop shouting.”_ _

__Liam whips his head around to stare at Zayn with wide eyes. “Why are you not more upset about this?”_ _

__Zayn lets out a long breath. “Because you're both right. And screaming at each other isn't going to make anything better. Technically, Louis's job is to do his job and protect Styles. He did that. Sure, we could still do the job with Styles being dead. It wouldn't be the end of the world.”_ _

__Louis has to hold a dry laugh in at that._ _

__“But it's definitely going to be easier with him alive,” Zayn finishes._ _

__“Look,” Louis breathes out. “Everything with Harry is fine. Yes, he's at Niall's, but he thinks Niall's like a bodyguard friend of mine or something that I planted to help me out. It's okay.”_ _

__“See?” Zayn asks, turning his attention back to Liam. “Stop panicking.”_ _

__Liam softens completely at that. He nods, then turns back to Louis. “Sorry,” he says. “I just worry is all.”_ _

__Louis quirks a small smile at that, too tired to manage a full one. “I know. It's why I didn't punch you.”_ _

__Liam smiles back at him, but only for a second because he starts taking in Louis's appearance. “You look terrible.”_ _

__“Well,” he shrugs. “I was shot at tonight.”_ _

__“Is that blood?” Liam asks curiously._ _

__“Harry's,” he answers, finally moving away from the hall._ _

__He goes into the kitchen, Liam and Zayn following him closely._ _

__“Harry's?” he hears Liam question._ _

__“Yeah,” he answers, grabbing a beer out of the fridge. “Did I not mention he was shot?” he adds, sitting down at the table._ _

__“No, you did not,” Zayn answers, sitting across from him._ _

__He takes a drink of his beer, then says, “In the shoulder, nothing too bad. It's why I took him to Niall's.”_ _

__“Why not to, you know, a professional?” Liam asks with a furrowed brow._ _

__“I was panicking.”_ _

__“Okay.”_ _

__Thankfully, Liam seems to accept that. “You should sleep,” he adds._ _

__“I will as soon as I drink this,” he replies, holding up his beer._ _

__“Maybe you shouldn't drink,” Zayn suggests, tracing nonsense pattern on the table with his finger. “Just sleep, you know.”_ _

__“I'm fine.”_ _

__“Louis, you were shot at.”_ _

__“Yeah, and I'm fine.”_ _

__Zayn regards him for a minute before pushing his chair away from the table. “Liam,” he says, standing. “We should go. Let him rest.”_ _

__Liam gives Zayn a questioning look, but nods._ _

__“You'll tell us if you're not fine?” he directs at Louis._ _

__“Don't I usually?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“Go away.”_ _

__Liam smiles, walking out the room, Zayn following closely behind him._ _

__He waits a minute after he hears the door to his flat shut before he stands abruptly, hurtling his beer at the wall. It shatters, glass and beer scattering all over the floor._ _

__He stands there, breathing heavily._ _

__He nearly ruined everything tonight._ _

__Not only did he almost die, but he nearly ruined Zayn's job. And, the thing that's bothering Louis the most, he almost didn't save Harry._ _

__He's been worried for a while now that he was going to find himself in a repeat of Sao Paulo._ _

__This situation is so much different than Sao Paulo, though. In Sao Paulo he'd simply engaged in the relationship for fun. He'd only wanted sex out of it and that's exactly what he got. This situation with Harry is completely different. He'd feared it, that something more was happening, but after tonight it's been confirmed._ _

__He definitely cares more about Harry than he wants to. He knows he doesn't want Harry to get hurt. Hell, he'd risked his life to save Harry's. Louis's not one to risk his life for just anyone. It's a bit scary that the thought of just leaving Harry hadn't crossed his mind. He'd never even considered._ _

__If given the chance, he'd do everything exactly the same because Harry's alive and that the thought that scares him. He's starting to care for Harry, maybe has for a while, but it's not good._ _

__He doesn't want to think about it right now – doesn't think he has the mental capacity to think about it and the possible repercussions – so he shakes his head, clearing his mind._ _

__On his way out of the kitchen he makes a mental note to clean up the mess he made in the morning.__

 _ _**__

 _ _He'd picked Harry up from Niall's around noon, brought him home, then met with Paul and some officials to talk about the previous night's events._ _

__They didn't seem to care too much since no one other than Harry was injured – Louis finds that seriously hard to believe since he knows he shot at least one guy and knocked another one out, but he'd kept his mouth shut due to the slight fear that slowly builds whenever he has to involve the police in something._ _

__After they left, him and Paul started talking about Louis moving in. Harry was ecstatic about it when they told him sometime later when he came down from his office. Louis tried not to think about _that_ too much._ _

__So, now Harry's showing him to the guest room he's going to be occupying for the remainder of his time on this job._ _

__It's the room next to the gym. He's never been in there, but as Harry opens the door to it, he can see that it's smaller than Harry's – which he's only seen for job purposes. It's still nice, though. The walls are a light blue, the linen on the bed a crisp white. It's very calming._ _

__“This was mine when I was little,” Harry explains, stepping to the side to allow Louis to walk through._ _

__“Far from your's isn't it?” he comments, setting his bag on the bed. He's expecting a reply of some sort, but he gets nothing. He turns around thinking that Harry left, but Harry's leaning in the doorway, with a confused expression._ _

__“Well, I mean, if someone should sneak in and try to kill you in your sleep, I won't hear it, which means I won't wake up,” he clarifies._ _

__One side of Harry's mouth quirks up. “Okay. But like, this one has a balcony. And it's next to the gym.”_ _

__“Yeah. I'm aware of that,” he smiles back. After a beat, he adds, “So, you're putting me in the room next to the gym. I know you wake up at arse o'clock to go in there. I better not be able to hear the machines.”_ _

__Harry has the decency to look sorry. “I'll try to be quiet.”_ _

__“You better.”_ _

__“There aren't any rooms closer,” Harry says. “To my room, I mean.”_ _

__“Then I guess I either won't be sleeping or I'll have to camp outside your room.”_ _

__“Please don't do that,” Harry replies quickly. “Either of those.”_ _

__“Of course I wouldn't do that,” he responds. “I need my beauty sleep.”_ _

__Harry snorts, pushing away from the door frame with a grimace._ _

__“How much does it hurt?” Louis asks, nodding at Harry's shoulder._ _

__He shrugs with his good shoulder. “Not much. I'm trying not to take too many pain killers.”_ _

__“If you need them-.”_ _

__“I know,” Harry says earnestly. “But I'm fine. Just, you know, a little stinging.”_ _

__Louis does know. He's been shot in almost that same place. He can't tell Harry that, though, because that'll start a whole list of questions he can't answers without giving anything away._ _

__“Just don't let the pain get too bad, okay?”_ _

__Harry smiles. “I like the pain.”_ _

__Louis rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Get out so I can unpack,” he says, shooing Harry out of the room. “Go go.”_ _

__Harry stays in place. “You can't unpack with me in the room?”_ _

__“No. You're too distracting.”_ _

__Harry's face lights up. “Am I?”_ _

__“You won't stop fucking talking to me!”_ _

__“Alright. I'll leave, but you'll miss me.”_ _

__“Doubt that,” he says, turning back to the bed. “Now leave.”_ _

__He can hear Harry's laughter as he walks down the hall._ _

__Living in this house – spending more time with Harry – has the potential to become a disaster in so many ways, but he pushes all his negative thoughts away. There isn't much point in dwelling on it. Whatever happens happens._ _

__He's not sure what happened to make him feel like this. There's a possibility of living through the night before being the reason, but he's not going to question it. He's not going to question anything right now. He's just going to enjoy life.__

 _ _**__

 _ _He's had an uneventful day. Sure he'd talked to the police and moved into Harry's, but aside from that nothing has happened. And he half expects someone to come waltzing into the house with a gun. He's sure that's a side effect from the night before, but it's still something that's keeping him awake, which is why he's in the kitchen with a bowl of some weird ice cream that's he'd found._ _

__“How's the room treating you?” Harry's voice asks as he walks into the kitchen._ _

__“It's a room,” Louis shrugs not looking up at him, instead holding a spoonful of ice cream up. He studies it for a second as it slides of the spoon in clumps. It's not appetizing in the slightest. “Is this actually ice cream?”_ _

__Harry nods. “It's organic green tea,” he answers._ _

__Louis wrinkles his nose, letting the spoon fall into the bowl. “It's disgusting,” he says, pushing the bowl away._ _

__Harry smiles, sitting across from him and grabbing the bowl for himself. “It's great. And I was asking if the room was comfortable.”_ _

__“This whole house is comfortable,” he answers leaning back in his chair, watching as Harry eats a spoonful of the ice cream seeming to actually enjoy it. “That's not ice cream. It's a fucking slight against humanity.”_ _

__Harry laughs. “Pretty sure it's not.”_ _

__“It is. It's fucking disgusting.”_ _

__Harry smiles at him, continuing to eat._ _

__“Where would you even get something like that?”_ _

__“Where I get the rest of my food,” Harry answers. “Why are you still up?”_ _

__Louis blinks slowly. Does he tell Harry the truth or does he make up another lie?_ _

__“A bit worried, is all,” he answers without knowing he made a decision._ _

__“About?” Harry prompts when he doesn't explain._ _

__“Someone trying to kill you again,” he answers, eyes trained on the table._ _

__It's probably the most truthful thing he's ever said to Harry. He probably shouldn't be saying it at all, but it's late and Harry's sitting across from him in grey joggers and a white t-shirt while eating organic green tea ice cream._ _

__“And we're still no closer to finding out who it is,” he adds, looking up to see Harry watching him with a thoughtful expression._ _

__“Yes, but they've tried three times and I'm still here,” he says. “Don't think they're very good at it. And I'm pretty sure you're job is just to protect me, not figure out who this person is.”_ _

__That's true. He's not required to do anything more than keep Harry out of danger, something that Paul's reminded him of every time he goes to the security office asking if there are more threats or any leads._ _

__“It would help me protect you if I knew who we were dealing with,” he mutters, clenching his jaw. “After last night- I mean, whoever we're dealing with can afford to hire multiple gunmen. I hadn't considered that a possibility before last night. And I'm sorry I didn't notice they were there sooner.”_ _

__Harry's brow furrows. “Wasn't your fault,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “You couldn't watch the whole building at all times.”_ _

__“I should have noticed,” he reiterates, crossing his arms over his chest. “It's my job to protect you and I-.”_ _

__“Did just that,” Harry says. “I'm alive, aren't I? You did your job.”_ _

__Technically, yes, but Harry did still get hurt. He has a feeling mentioning that will somehow not go his way. Harry seems insistent that Louis did nothing wrong last night. Would Harry still feel that way if he knew the whole story? Probably not._ _

__Harry starts laughing. He's trying to hide it behind his hand, but he's doing a horrible job at it._ _

__“What the hell is so funny?”_ _

__“You're pouting,” Harry chokes out. “And you've got ice cream on your chin.”_ _

__“What?” He wipes his chin with his hand. When he pulls his hand down there is indeed ice cream. “How long has it been there?”_ _

__“The whole time.”_ _

__“And you didn't tell me?”_ _

__“It was cute,” Harry shrugs._ _

__Louis glares at him, wiping his face in case there's any more ice cream Harry's not telling him about. There doesn't seem to be and they fall into a comfortable silence, Harry finishing Louis's discarded ice cream._ _

__When Harry's close to being finished eating, he sets the spoon in the bowl and looks up at Louis._ _

__“So,” he drawls out. “About Niall.”_ _

__He's not naive. He knew Harry wasn't going to let the Niall thing go so easily, but he thought he'd have more time. He thought he'd have enough time to talk to Niall so he can know what all Niall told Harry. He hasn't been able to do that. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing, contradicting something Niall's said, and ruining the whole job right here, right now._ _

__“Whatever he told you about me is a vicious lie,” he replies, looking Harry directly in the eyes._ _

__Harry cocks an eyebrow. “He didn't tell me anything about you. Why? Does he have embarrassing stories?”_ _

__“Yes,” he answers resignedly because it's rather unfortunately not a lie._ _

__Harry guffaws at that, slapping a hand on the table. When he's collected himself, he grins._ _

__“I'll have to remember to ask him to tell me some.”_ _

__Niall would never pass up a chance to embarrass him, so there's no doubt in Louis's mind that Niall would tell Harry something, but there's only a small collection of those stories that Niall could tell that wouldn't get them in trouble._ _

__“Niall's as loyal as a dog,” he says. “He'll never tell you anything.”_ _

__Harry's smile grows. “I'm sure I could convince him to tell me something.”_ _

__Louis snorts in response._ _

__“But seriously, though,” Harry continues, smile gone. “You could have told me Niall was a friend of yours and not someone called Carey.”_ _

__Louis ducks his head. “Well, you didn't seem too keen on me being around, so I thought that meant you didn't want more security. I thought you wouldn't want Niall around,” he lies. “That's why I didn't tell you.”_ _

__When he looks back up Harry's brow is wrinkled and he's pushed the ice cream further away. “About that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I wasn't happy about the whole situation and I was taking it out on you.”_ _

__That's good to know. There was still a part of Louis that thought Harry just didn't like him, as ridiculous as that sounds, but he still shouldn't be worrying about that._ _

__“You know, I think it's great that you've got a friend that would go through so much trouble to help you out.”_ _

__Harry has no idea how much trouble him and Niall have gone through in the past to help each other out. He's got no idea how much trouble they've all been through to help each other out. Louis's got half a mind to tell him, but that would certainly end up with him being arrested._ _

__“Yeah, Niall's a great friend.”_ _

__“I mean, I was kind of concerned that a guy with virtually no experience had been hired to control mine and the company's money, but Niall was telling me all about the extensive training and the classes you had him go through so he wouldn't completely fuck up.”_ _

__There were no classes. There was no extensive training. Leave it to Niall to use this opportunity to build Louis up and not make him look like an uncaring arsehole._ _

__“Well, you know,” Louis says, trailing off._ _

__He doesn't know what to say to that._ _

__Harry open his mouth to respond, but he yawns instead. “Okay. Think I need to go to bed now,” he grumbles, pushing away from the table. He walks to the door, stopping before he walks out. “See you in the morning,” he says. “Goodnight, Louis.”_ _

__Louis waits until his footsteps have disappeared before responding with “Goodnight, Harry.”__

 _ _**__

 _ _Things have pretty much gone back to normal – at least as normal as this whole situation can get – and he's got a day off. He doesn't get many, just one a week, sometimes not even that. And with his new living arrangement he wasn't sure how or where he was going to spend it._ _

__When Zayn had texted him saying they should hang out, he almost said no. Spending his day off having Zayn talk about the job and badgering Louis about finding out where Harry kept his art collection wasn't ideal, but Zayn had promised there'd be no talk of any of that._ _

__So far there hasn't been, but he can tell that Zayn's about to explode. His eyes are constantly flicking back and forth between Louis's face and his drink. It's something he does when he wants to gauge how not sober Louis is, so he can bring up a topic he knows Louis doesn't want to talk about. It's been going on for the last hour and Louis's reaching his end of being able to deal with it._ _

__“Oh just say it, whatever it is,” he cries, startling Zayn so much that some of his drink spills over the side of his glass._ _

__Zayn wipes his hand off on his jeans. Clearing his throat, he says, “I don't know what you're talking about.”_ _

__“Oh come on, mate,” Louis sighs. “You've been doing the eye thing for a while now and it's driving me mad.”_ _

__“I haven't been doing the eye thing” he replies immediately, but then his brow is furrowing and he's adding, “What eye thing?”_ _

__“You're a dick.”_ _

__Zayn narrows his eyes. “I told you we wouldn't talk work tonight.”_ _

__“Yes, but the eye thing,” he replies waving a hand in Zayn's direction. “Just go ahead and ask. We both know you're dying to.”_ _

__He takes a deep breath, setting his drink on the table beside the sofa. “How's things going with Styles?”_ _

__“Better,” he shrugs. “He's not suspicious about anything, which is good. And I think he trusts me more.”_ _

__God help him. He's even lying to Zayn now. He knows Harry trusts him, has for a while._ _

__“Good, so how much longer do you think it will be before you find out where the art is?”_ _

__“I said he trusts me more, not that he trusts me completely,” he answers. “So I don't know.”_ _

__Zayn lets out a loud breath. “This job is taking entirely too long.”_ _

___Here we go_ , he thinks, sinking further into the sofa cushion._ _

__They have this conversation once a week. Louis's come to expect it. Zayn will contact him in whatever way he can at the time saying that “the job is taking to long” and “I feel like you should have already figured this out, Louis”._ _

__He always replies the same way, but he has a feeling that his usual “these things take time, Zayn” isn't going to cut it this time._ _

__“I don't want to be on this job for the rest of my life, Louis,” Zayn continues when Louis doesn't say anything. “Why don't you just ask him?”_ _

__“Because I don't have an interest in art,” Louis points out. “If I ask about the art collection he'll be suspicious if I don't give him a reason as to why. And I can't pose as someone who is interested in art. I literally know like five things about it.”_ _

__“You could study up,” Zayn suggests, turning off the telly. He turns in his seat to face Louis. “You know, actually do some research. Make yourself cultured and all.”_ _

__“My retention for all things art is almost completely nonexistent.”_ _

__Zayn snorts. “I feel like your retention for most things is almost completely nonexistent.”_ _

__“Hey, rude much.”_ _

__He gets an eye roll in return. “Can't you sneak into his office or something and look to see if there's bills on a place he rents?”_ _

__“I can't just go waltzing into it.”_ _

__That's a lie. He's had plenty of chances to sneak in and rummage around Harry's things._ _

__“Well I know that's a lie.”_ _

__Damn Zayn._ _

__“Alright, you want to know the reason?” he asks Zayn, turning his body to face him. When Zayn gives him an unimpressed look, Louis continues. “Okay. I'll tell you. Honestly, I'm a bit afraid.”_ _

__“Of what?” he questions with a raised eyebrow._ _

__He told the truth about being afraid, but he doesn't have to tell Zayn the real reason he's afraid. His real reason is he doesn't want Harry to be hurt. He doesn't trust anyone else with Harry, which is fucking hilarious if you think about it because Harry needs protecting from Louis, the person who's lying to him everyday and planning on stealing from him._ _

__But he's afraid for Harry. If something happened to Harry he's not sure how he'd react. It wouldn't be good, he's sure._ _

__“Well, Zayn, as you know, Harry does have someone trying to kill him.”_ _

__“And?”_ _

__“And I'm afraid of someone doing just that,” he says. “Look, I know I'm not actually there to protect him, but Harry is a good guy and he doesn't deserve to be targeted like this.”_ _

__Zayn's features soften. “Okay, I understand that, but Louis this job can't go on forever.”_ _

__“Well, I know _that_ ,” Louis insists. “I've just been a little busy doing this fake job of mine that you set me up with to be able to properly snoop,” he lies._ _

__Zayn studies him for a minute before shrugging. “Just figure it out, Lou. There's a reason I had you doing this.”_ _

__“And what was that reason?” he asks with a smile._ _

__“Shut up prick.”_ _

__“That's not nice. Why are you being so rude to me tonight?”_ _

__“I'm always rude to you,” Zayn comes back with. “Normally you're too stuck in your own head to notice.”_ _

__“I'm going to leave if you don't start being nice to me.”_ _

__Zayn holds his hands up. “Alright alright. I'll be nice.”_ _

__He turns the telly back on, shifting in his seat in his original position so he can watch the movie he'd not paused for some reason._ _

___It's fine_ , Louis tells himself. Zayn doesn't suspect anything. He doesn't know that Louis is drawling out this process for his own selfish reasons because he doesn't want to leave Harry. Zayn has every reason to be concerned about how long Louis is taking. _ _

__It's his job, of course he's worried. Louis knows he would be if the roles were reversed. In fact, if the roles _were_ reversed he probably would have fired Zayn by now and done it all himself. Zayn's a saint really, putting up with Louis and all his issues._ _

__Louis rolls his eyes at himself, letting out a quiet snort. He really is losing his mind if he thinks Zayn's a saint. Zayn's the reason he's in this mess after all._ _

___Dear god_. He's blaming Zayn now for his problems that he's created for himself. In his mind Zayn went from being a saint to problem maker in record time. Maybe it's time for Louis to go to sleep. _ _

__He shakes his head at himself, shaking all his thoughts from his head so he can focus on the movie.__

 _ _**__

 _ _When Louis walks into the lounge he's greeted with the sight of Harry's back. He's standing by one of the windows on the front wall, occasionally glancing through the curtains. It's mildly entertaining watching him do this, but Louis's a curious man, so he has to interrupt._ _

__“Harry what are you doing?”_ _

__Harry startles, knocking his head against the window. He spins around. Looking sheepish, he rubs at his forehead. “There's someone sitting in a van outside,” he answers, dropping his hand._ _

__Fucking Liam. Louis told him to stay out of sight._ _

__Louis crosses the room, coming to stand in front of Harry. “Yeah, don't worry about him,” he says, quickly glancing out the window._ _

__“Is he one of yours then?”_ _

__Louis'd actually forgotten the conversation he'd had with Liam a few days ago. Liam hadn't taken too kindly to be asked to stake out Harry's house, but once Louis played the “You know, I'm living there now. If people come for him, they're coming for me,” card, Liam had given in and agreed to do occasional surveillance of the house._ _

__“Yeah, like I said, don't worry about him,” he replies. “I have him stake out your house most days so we don't walk in on people with guns, you know. Doing my best to protect you.”_ _

__Harry regards him for a moment, eyes impossibly soft. “Thank you,” he mutters._ _

__He shrugs. “It's my job.”_ _

__They're standing close enough for Louis to feel Harry's breath hit his face when he speaks._ _

__“Seriously, thank you. You don't have to get your friends involved.”_ _

__Louis starts to say that he should be thanking his friends since it's not their job, but Harry's so _close_ and he can smell Harry's strawberry shampoo and see the flecks of gold in his eyes and it's all so distracting. And his nine months of celibacy might be kicking in right now because he's got a feeling where this might be heading, but he honestly couldn't give a damn right now._ _

__Harry takes another step closer. “You're eyes are very beautiful,” he says cautiously, like he's not sure he should be saying it._ _

__He shouldn't be and Louis doesn't agree, but it's got him blushing anyway._ _

__“Nah,” he sighs out. “Think your eyes are more beautifuller.”_ _

__Harry's forehead wrinkles. “That's not a word,” he says with a smile._ _

__“Yes, it is. I just made it one.”_ _

__“You're ridiculous,” Harry retorts. “And also wrong. It's not a word and your eyes are definitely better than mine.”_ _

__Louis should stop this. He should stop it right now before it goes any further, but goddamn Harry's just so beautiful and he keeps getting closer, leaning into Louis's space. He should stop it before either one of them takes it further._ _

__“Think you're just drunk on love, mate,” he replies instead. “'sides, I think you're hair's nicer than my eyes.”_ _

__He brings a hand up to run through Harry's waves. He doesn't see how it's possible, but they're much softer than they look. Harry leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering._ _

__“Now, that's true,” he says, shifting even closer, letting one of his hands rest on Louis's waist._ _

__They've never been this close in this kind of situation before. It's making him dizzy. Everything is Harry. Everything has been Harry for a couple of months now, but this is even more Harry right now. They're literally sharing air._ _

__“Harry,” he says, barely audible in the quietness of the room._ _

__“Louis,” Harry says, almost as quiet._ _

__Harry leans forward, Louis's hand still in his hair._ _

__This is it, he thinks. This is where everything gets even more fucked up than it already is. Harry's going to kiss him and he's not going to stop it. He doesn't _want_ to stop it. He wants this just as much as Harry, if not more. He's going to let it happen. He made that decision as soon as he stepped next to Harry, probably even before that. It doesn't matter thought, because Harry's still leaning closer._ _

__When Harry's mouth is almost on his, Louis's phone starts ringing in his pocket, causing them to jump apart. Harry's across the room in less than a second, wide eyed and breathing heavy._ _

__“I'll, uh, I'll let you answer that,” he says before scurrying out of the room, not sparing another glance at him._ _

__Louis blinks several times in quick succession._ _

__In a way, he's glad his phone rang. It broke them out of whatever trance they were in, stopping them both from making a mistake that Louis would probably never be able to recover from. At the same time, there's a part of him that wishes it would've happened._ _

__He wants to know Harry, in every sense. He wants to be able to have anything and everything that Harry's willing to give him. And for what is probably the first time in his life, he wants to give as much as he gets._ _

__But that's something he doesn't want to think about now, so he takes a deep breath, pulling out his phone and immediately hitting the redial button._ _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry's relationship takes a turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got most of this thing written now, so I've decided to post this a week early. (Although, it's mostly because my sister keeps bugging me about it.)  
> Also, you should take a look at the added tags. Things get violent toward the end, so you know, beware.  
> As always, enjoy!

They never talked about it. Not once have they even acknowledged it. Louis had half expected things to be weird between them because of it. It was so obvious what was about to happen, it should be awkward. But Harry'd come downstairs the next morning chipper as ever, acting like nothing had happened.

It had taken a few seconds for Louis to catch on to Harry's act of everything being fine. At least he thought it was an act. Harry genuinely seemed fine, which threw Louis off again, but he recovered _again_ and they've been fine since.

He's not sure how Harry was affected by it, but Louis can't stop thinking about it – how soft Harry's hair was, how Harry's hand felt around his waist. Every time he closes his eyes at night it's all he can picture. It's all he can do not to let his imagination run wild and in those few cases where he's dreamt about it, he's refused to get himself of to the thought of Harry actually doing those things to him.

If he had people he could talk to about this, they'd probably tell him to go out, have a quick and dirty fuck with someone he'll never see again, which would probably work if it were just sexual frustration playing a role here. There's so much more to it than that.

He likes Harry, _genuinely_ likes Harry. If he let himself think about it more, he'd probably discover that he more than likes Harry. But whatever it is he's feeling for Harry is part of the reason he can't stop thinking about it.

He knows now – has always sort of known – that Harry feels the same for whatever reason, but it doesn't matter how they feel about each other. It can't work out. No relationship can work out between them.

Hell, the only relationships Louis has is with the lads and those are only real relationships half the time. They can go years without hearing from each other. It's all part of the job. In this business relationships are hard to keep.

Not to mention, that it's because of Louis's choice of career that he met Harry in the first place. He's here to a pull a job. It's what Harry is, _a job_. It wouldn't be wise for Louis to entertain any notion of them being together no matter how much he wants to. 

If he lets his guard down too much he could end up in a situation similar to Sao Paulo. And since he does actually like Harry, it'll hurt him so much more when Harry finds out who he truly is. There's no way Harry would ever be okay with what Louis does for a living. He'd never be okay with the idea that Louis was lying to him all this time.

And he feels so incredibly guilty because if he'd thought before that Harry might have a crush and/or feelings for him he _knows_ now. The guilt isn't something he's used to. 

Harry is the only person he's ever met that has made him feel guilty about the lying and sneaking and general evil doing. And Harry's not actually done anything to make him feel like this other than be naturally lovely self.

He doesn't know what to do with the guilt other than repress it. It's probably not healthy, but what else can he do? It's not like he can tell Harry the truth, so repressing is what he's going to do, which is why he's currently sneaking through Harry's house while he's asleep, looking for wherever it is he hides his art collection.

Louis's almost positive that it's not in the house. He's been in every room. Zayn's halfway convinced that Harry has hidden rooms or something, which is entirely possible, he guesses, but Louis hasn't seen anything that suggests he does.

He feels a bit ridiculous feeling around walls and moving books around on bookcases, but he's going to exhaust every option no matter how crazy it is before he tells Zayn that he knows for sure that the art collection isn't in this house.

It's been well over an hour since he started this. There's a good chance he'd finish with this quicker if he wasn't so worried about being caught. The only other person in the house right now is Harry, who he's found out is a heavy sleeper, but he doesn't want to take his chances.

So, he's been going out of his way to be quiet, which is a lot harder than he'd anticipated it would be. He keeps bumping into things and nearly knocking things of shelves and tables.

It wasn't so much a problem when he was on the ground floor, but now that he's on the second floor where Harry is he has to be more careful about making noise, especially since he's in Harry's office. 

Louis's made fun of him a couple of times for having an office on each floor of the house. Harry says it's because the office on the first floor is his “work” office, while the one on the second floor is his “personal” office. Louis's not sure what that means, but he'd still laughed so hard he nearly cried.

There's three doors leading into Harry's personal office. One from the library – which he is choosing to check another night since the room is two stories and covered in thousands of books that he'd have to fiddle around with – one from the hall, which is the door he's using, and a door connecting Harry's bedroom to it.

He's only been in this room a handful of times and since it is connected to Harry's bedroom, he's afraid to turn on a light, so he's relying on the moonlight streaming in through the two windows. It's still dark and he doesn't know the layout that well, but he's used to this sort of thing.

Quietly shutting the door behind him, he quickly surveys the room. 

To his right is the door leading to Harry's room and directly in front of his is a fireplace. The wall to his left juts out, the desk and safe being around the corner of it and the door to the second story of the library there as well. There's a couple of freestanding bookshelves on either side of the safe, so Louis doubts those could hold a trigger to a secret room or passageway, but he figures he'll check just in case.

He makes his way over without much incident until he nearly walks straight into the corner of the desk. He does a good job dodging it, though.

Giving the shelves a quick once-over, he sighs. There's really not much on them, just books and a couple of pictures of Harry with his family. It shouldn't take long to check them, so he gets started on them.

When he's switching from one shelf to the other he glance to his left, the safe on the wall mocking him. He's never seen what's in it and there's no chance that all of Harry's art collection could fit in it, but he is going to check it. There might be papers in there or some sort of clue as to where the art actually is.

When he's done with the shelves, he turns to the desk. The safe needs a key, which he thinks is a bit weird since most safe's have a number combination lock. Harry would be the type of person to have a safe like this and not hide it. But is he the type of person to keep the key in an obvious place.

Before he has a chance to check, he hears movement coming from Harry's room. It's muffled, but he hears someone walking around. He freezes when he hears a door start to open.

Every thought of “this is over, this is it” run through his head all at once, but the door from Harry's room never opens. Harry must've opened the one to the hall.

_Shit._

What if Harry is looking for Louis? He knows Louis was supposed to be here all night.

Louis allows himself to panic for another second before he flings himself in the direction of the door to the library. Even in his flurry, he's able to quietly open and close the door. He runs around the balcony that overlooks the first floor until he reaches the door to the hall.

He pauses, taking a deep breath to compose himself, before he puts his hand on the handle, opening the door to the hall.

Harry's walking toward the stairs slowly with his back to Louis. Louis reaches behind him and into the library to flick on the light.

The light from the library illuminates the hall outside.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he says, causing Harry to spin around, eyes wide. “What are you doing up?”

Harry groans, rubbing at his eyes. “Was thirsty,” he mumbles. Dropping his hands, he blinks at Louis. “Why are you in the library?”

Louis shrugs. “I was bored. Figured I could read something.”

“Didn't take you for the type.”

Louis purses his lip. “I read occasionally. Needs to be something really interesting.”

Harry nods. “What'd you find?” he questions.

Louis bites the inside of his jaw. He has no idea what books Harry has in there. There's a good chance Harry may not know because there's so many, but he doesn't want to risk it.

“Didn't find anything,” he says, which is more the truth than he wants it to be. “Figured I'd go back down to the security office and play around on the internet.”

Harry considers him a moment, looking a lot more awake than he had just a second ago. “You know,” he starts. “You could just sleep. Since you have a room and a bed here now.”

“Not tired.”

“Well, alright,” Harry replies. “I”m going to go get some water,” he adds, jerking a thumb in the direction of the stairs. “Please try and get some sleep. It's not healthy not to.”

“Okay,” he agrees as Harry starts making his way down the stairs.

When Harry's out of sight, he reaches back to shut off the light in the library. He quickly closes the door, then runs over to his room.

He doesn't slow down until he's leaning against the closed door in the dark.

That was so close. He was almost caught. Harry almost caught him, though, the more rational part of him knows it's not as close as it felt. There's a good chance Harry thought he was asleep and wouldn't have gone looking for him, but it was still a lot closer than Louis likes.

Letting out a long sigh, he pushes away from the door. He's done for the night. He's not going to risk anymore.

He pulls off his clothes, throwing them wherever. Letting himself fall into bed, he promises himself that he'll finish looking tomorrow.

**

“You know,” Liam starts as he opens the door, “I think this may be the first time you've ever actually been on time in your life.”

Louis purses his lips, glaring at him as he walks through the door. “I'm working with a short window of time, Liam. Got to be back before Harry wakes up and notices I'm gone.”

“Yeah, but surely he's not going to wake up and immediately notice you're not there,” Niall supplies walking in from the kitchen holding a beer. “You sleep in the same house, not the same bed. It's not like he has a Louis alarm or anything.”

“Also,” Louis drawls out, grabbing the beer from Niall. 

His brow furrows as he looks at his empty hand. “That one was meant to be mine.”

“Mine now,” Louis says, holding it up slightly and smiling. “I'd like to get some sleep for once,” he adds, sitting on the sofa next to Zayn.

Niall sighs, turning back to the kitchen.

“You haven't been sleeping?” Liam questions as he settles himself down on the floor, leaning against an armchair.

“Of course not,” Louis answers as Niall walks back in with another beer. “I spend my days working, you know as you do, and my nights have been spent perusing the Styles house and accompanying grounds for any hidden area that might house a massive art collection worth more than we can comprehend.” 

When he finishes, he shoots a grin in Zayn's direction. Zayn rolls his eyes, resting his arm on the back of the sofa.

“Louis, one day you're going to realize that I'm-.”

“That you're what? A massive prick? Because I knew that a long time ago, mate.”

Niall cackles so loud Louis jumps a bit.

“I'm not a prick,” Zayn argues.

“I said _massive_ prick,” Louis corrects, pointing a finger at him. “And you most definitely are.”

“Am not.”

Liam crosses his legs and turns a bit so he is facing them. “Hate to break it to you, mate,” he says addressing Zayn. “But you kind of are.”

“I agree,” Niall says from where he's leaning against the doorway to the kitchen.

Louis turns back to Zayn, face hurting from how much he's smiling. “See?”

Ignoring him and Niall and Liam's laughing, Zayn asks, “Did you find anything?” 

It had taken him six days, three of those all dedicated to the library, but he'd checked the whole house and found nothing. He even checked the grounds surrounding the house and there was nothing. He's gone six nights with very little sleep to find nothing as he expected.

“No, I didn't,” he answers, secretly revealing in the way Zayn's face falls. “I told you I didn't think I would. It's literally impossible for the collection to be on that property.”

“You checked everywhere?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you missed something,” he suggests.

Louis sighs. “There is no place that exists that I didn't check. I left no rug unturned, no corner untouched. I checked everything. Nearly got caught too, but I don't expect you care about that.”

Zayn groans, standing abruptly. He doesn't say anything as he starts pacing the room.

Liam watches him a bit before turning to Louis. “So obviously he keeps it somewhere that's not his house.”

“Gee, would've never thought of that,” Louis says dryly, earning him a kick in the foot from him. “Why can't you just do your thing anyway and look it up?”

“Do you know how long that will take?” Liam counters with. “London is a big city. Scanning all the places big enough for him to store an art collection any museum in the world would kill to have would take weeks. Not to mention there's a chance it's some place outside of London, in which case would add more time.”

“So, it'd take a while?”

“Probably as long as it's taken you to figure out it's not in the house,” Zayn mutters, still pacing.

Louis breathes out loudly, rolling his eyes. “And what are you doing, Zayn? Aside from ordering us around and being all stroppy.”

Zayn opens his mouth to reply, but Niall's stepping between him and the sofa. “Look, lads, I think we all need to calm down.”

Zayn and Louis both snort at that.

Niall rolls his eyes at them. “I know this is taking a while, but we figured it would, yeah? So let's not get angry with each other.”

He gives each of them a stern look until they nod in agreement. When Niall smiles, turning back to lean in the doorway, Zayn starts pacing again.

Liam scoots around some more to face Louis straight on. “Have you not seen anything to indicate where he might keep it?” When Louis shakes his head, he adds, “No bills or anything?”

“I'm telling you, Liam, I haven't seen anything.”

“It's got to be in a warehouse or something,” Niall suggests. “Something big.”

“I'll start looking into it,” Liam concedes with a drawn out breath. “It'd be easier if I had his credit card numbers or something, but part of me doubts whatever he's renting won't be in his name.”

“It might be, though,” he replies. “Harry probably doesn't think anyone's going to try and steal this stuff. I mean, he knows obviously that this stuff is worth a lot, but he probably hasn't given it that much thought.”

Liam shrugs. “I mean, I'll look into it either way.”

“Our best bet is still you, Louis,” Zayn says coming to a stop in front of his mantle with his back to them. “Keep trying. I know you can't ask outright, but you can figure it out.” He turns around, looking Louis straight in the eyes. “I have faith in you.”

That's the problem right there, isn't it? Zayn has too much faith in him. He's almost fucked this job up several times already. If Zayn knew he wouldn't be saying this. Hell, he'd be pulling Louis off the job immediately.

“Yeah, okay,” he says.

He sets the beer he hasn't taken a drink of on the coffee table and stands, stretching out his back. 

“Look, I know we haven't had much time to hang out and what not, but-.”

“You need to get back before your boyfriend starts worrying?” Niall finishes with a smirk.

Louis sends a glare his way. “But I need sleep, is what I was going to say.”

“Then by all means, go sleep,” Niall replies, waving a hand in the direction of the door.

Louis flips him off, then waves at Liam and Zayn before wordlessly walking out of Zayn's flat.

Once outside, he remembers a night weeks ago when he'd left Zayn's and stood in this exact spot trying to decide if he should go home or back to Harry's. He's doing the exact same thing now, though for different reasons. 

Before it was because he was worried about what going back to Harry 's meant and how it would affect him in anyway. It was unclear at the time how Harry felt about him and how he was feeling about Harry.

Now, he knows what going back to Harry's, though it's still muddled. He likes Harry, wants to spend as much time with him as possible before his time with him is up, but he also has a job to do, even if he's now doing it reluctantly.

There's a part of him, deep down that wants to walk back inside and tell Zayn that he quits. Say a “good luck” and a “good-bye”, but it's rational. If he does that he can't go back to Harry's anyway because Zayn would definitely find some way to let Harry know that Louis was deceiving him the whole time, but he'd at least be able to have a chance to defend himself. He could use his quitting of the job as an argument in his favor, though if he were Harry he wouldn't listen to him at all.

A woman walking by with a barking dog, breaks him out of his thoughts. Shaking his head, he really has no choice but to go back to Harry's and finish out the job.

**

Harry's having a strop and Louis doesn't completely disagree with his reasoning for it, but he is siding with Paul on this one.

He'd gotten back from Zayn's pretty early the previous night, but he didn't get much sleep, so it wasn't much of a surprise that he slept through his alarm. What _was_ a surprise was that no one had woken him up because he was late accompanying Harry to work.

He'd jumped out of bed, quickly threw on some clothes and shoes and ran downstairs to find Harry and Paul in the kitchen. 

Harry was sitting at the table, arms crossed and lips pouted. Paul was standing across from him, his own arms crossed against his chest with a stern expression. He looked very much like a father who had just finished scolding their child.

Louis had entered hesitantly, asking why no one had woken him up.

Harry didn't move an inch, while Paul explained that Harry had received another threat that had been pinned to the front gate. He didn't have much time to react to that because Paul immediately started into his big speech about how Louis was supposed to deal with this.

“Under no circumstances is Harry allowed to leave this house,” he commanded, throwing a look in Harry's direction, who had honest to God stuck out his tongue like a child. Paul rolled his eyes, but addressed Harry with a soft expression. “I don't want you getting hurt, kid,” he said. “Every time you leave this house you're putting yourself at risk. You're safer here.”

Harry refused to respond and Louis hadn't made it much better when he'd turned to Paul and asked, “They obviously know where he lives, why not try to attack him here?”

Harry had sat up straighter, eyes wide. “Yeah, they could attack me here. Why can't I leave then?”

Paul sent Louis an annoyed look, before explaining to Harry that there was no way they could get inside the premises without proper identification and even if they somehow did, Louis and himself would be there. 

Louis's not sure Harry found it very comforting, but he'd slumped back into his chair and let Paul continue telling Louis how imperative it was that Harry not leave the house.

Louis felt a burst of affection for Harry when he'd pouted even more when Paul said he couldn't even leave for his morning runs. (He was also slightly relieved because it meant he didn't have to run.) When Harry started to protest, Paul replied with “You've got a whole fucking gym upstairs, fucking use it.”

Harry glared at Louis when he laughed.

Harry hasn't been speaking to Paul since then. It's been four days and neither Harry or Louis has left the house, but Louis hasn't seen that much of Harry. 

That first day, Harry had locked himself in his room and hadn't come out once. Louis was so worried that Harry had somehow managed to sneak out through his balcony that he'd gone outside and climbed a tree to be able to see inside Harry's window. It might be considered creepy, but he was doing it to make sure Harry was safe.

It wasn't until halfway through the second day that Harry decided to come out. His outing was only long enough to exchange a quiet “hello” with Louis and get a bowl of cereal.

He'd spent a longer amount of time outside his room – Louis suspects Harry had ventured into his office at some point to grab his laptop – having an actual conversation with Louis about how bananas were a superior fruit. As soon as Paul walked in Harry left.

That's how it went earlier this morning, but Paul's left for the day because he had a prior engagement he couldn't get out. He still hadn't seen Harry since around noon, which is why he's a bit shocked to see Harry walking into the kitchen.

“Hello,” he says, voice deep and scratchy, as he walks to the fridge.

Louis doesn't reply, opting to continue sipping his tea and reading an article on his phone Niall sent him about horse racing. Since they were at the Kentucky Derby Niall has been doing his best to convince Louis that horse racing is a “very under appreciated sport” and that he should “learn about more about it” because it's going to be “all the rage” again in the distant future. Louis still doesn't care about it. He's reading the article, though, because he suspects Niall's going to quiz him on it.

With his attention on his phone, he hears the fridge door close and the sound of Harry's shuffled footsteps. They stop when Harry's somewhere near the breakfast bar. 

“Are you seriously ignoring me now?”

Louis sets his phone down on the table, grabs his empty cup and makes it a point to not look at Harry as he walks to the sink.

He hears Harry sigh, then say, “This is a bit childish.”

“Oh, I think I heard something,” Louis says, furrowing his brow as he sets the cup in the sink. “Must be losing me mind.”

To is left he hears Harry groan. “I haven't been ignoring you.”

Louis rolls his eyes, finally turning to Harry. He looks soft in his trackies and t-shirt. He doesn't look angry, more irked than anything. “You've been ignoring Paul,” he points out, crossing his arms. “You're the one being childish.”

Harry's face falls at that, eyes downcast. “I don't like being cooped up.”

“Well neither do I.”

“You could leave if you wanted to,” Harry argues halfheartedly.

Louis sighs, dropping his arms to his sides. “He's doing this to protect you. He doesn't want you hurt.”

Harry snorts in derision. 

Before he can say anything else, Louis quickly adds, “He cares about. And while I think he's being a bit strict, I can't help but enjoy the fact that you aren't putting yourself in danger. I care about you too, Harry. Don't want you getting hurt or worse.”

Harry's head snaps up, eyes wide and searching. “You do? You care about me?”

_Fuck._

Of course he does, but that doesn't mean he meant to say it.

“No,” he drawls out, the word lilting at the end.

Harry schools his face into something less shocked. With a raised eyebrow, he asks, “Why are you asking?”

“Why are _you_ asking?” Louis counters with.

He suddenly feels cornered even though he's far from it, but Harry's looking at him with hope and Louis can't stop remembering that day a weeks ago when they'd nearly kissed. He can't stop thinking about how if Harry does kiss him, he'd let it happen. He'd kiss back and worry about the consequences later.

Harry breaks out into a grin. Taking two steps closer, he says, “I actually thought you didn't like me that much.”

“Harry, I'm your bodyguard,” he reminds weekly because now Harry's got this passion in his eyes that has heat spreading throughout Louis's body. 

Harry shakes his head. “But you do care,” he says, coming closer.

It's not a question, but he treats it like one. “Of course I do, Harold.”

If his mind wasn't on a constant loop of _Harry Harry Harry_ he'd care more about using a nickname, but his mind is on a constant loop of _Harry Harry Harry_ because he's standing directly in front of Louis who has somehow ended up with his back against the counter.

It's daunting that Harry's managed to get him in this position. He never lets his guard down long enough to ever get himself distracted so someone gains the upper hand, but he finds that he doesn't mind that Harry's managed it. Honestly, he'd probably let Harry do anything to him if asked.

Harry places his hands on the counter on either side of Louis, bracketing him in. “If you tell me you don't want this I will stop,” Harry says, leaning forward so his mouth is ghosting along Louis's jaw when he adds, “Do you want this?”

He should say no. He should one hundred percent say no for a hundred different reasons, but he can't remember them right now. He doesn't want to remember them because Harry's started lightly brushing his lips down his neck and he's tilting his head to the side to give Harry better access.

His dick twitches and he lets out a gasp when Harry bites down. “You're an arse,” he breathes out, resting his hand on Harry's hip.

Harry licks the spot he bit, then pulls back eyes still full of passion, but there's a small trace of unsureness there that has Louis rucking up Harry's shirt on the side, placing his hand on Harry's warm flesh and saying, “Of course I want this.”

Harry practically beams at him before grabbing Louis behind the neck and pulling him into a kiss. It's messy and awkward at first, noses squishing together, neither one of them quite sure how to deal with each other. Normally, Louis would take charge. He likes taking control in situations, including situations like now. He hates letting go, letting someone else gain the upper hand, but after a moment of them messily trying to get it together, he willingly gives up, letting Harry take control.

Harry's got one hand on the back of his neck, fingers wrapped up in the hair there, and he uses his free hand to cup Louis's jaw. He tilts his head a bit and just like that the kiss quickly becomes the best Louis's ever had.

Harry's lips are soft and plump against his, moving in a steady rhythm that has Louis's eyes fluttering. They kiss like this for a while, Louis letting the hand under Harry's shirt wander over the smooth expanse of Harry's stomach. Harry kicks at Louis's foot trying to get him to spread his legs, so he does. Harry slips his own leg between them. The new position letting Louis feel how hard Harry's getting.

The hand on Louis's jaw slides down, palm flat against his chest. Harry doesn't stop moving it until he's got it hovering over Louis's crotch. Louis gasps into Harry's mouth when he starts palming him, allowing Harry to lick into his mouth.

Harry continues palming him, rubbing himself against Louis's thigh. It's the most intense thing Louis's ever experienced, he thinks, even though he's got the counter digging into his lower back if Harry got down on his knees right now Louis'd forget about the counter and let Harry blow him right in his kitchen.

Harry doesn't drop to his knees, though, but he breaks the kiss, pecking Louis on the nose. 

Louis, breathing heavily, cocks an eyebrow. “Why are you stopping?”

Harry releases Louis altogether and takes a step back. “Don't want to do this in the kitchen,” he rasps out.

“I'm not too picky,” he shrugs.

“Believe me, the first time I do something remotely sexual with you I don't want it to be in my kitchen,” Harry replies.

Louis swallows thickly. “Right,” he drawls out. “So, your bedroom?”

Harry seems a bit shocked at Louis's suggestion, like he hadn't quite expected Louis to want to continue this, but he grabs Louis's hand anyway and starts leading him through the house.

“It's times like this when I hate how big this house is,” Louis comments as they reach the stairs. “You could just do me here,” he suggests, earning a scandalized look over Harry's shoulder.

“Not fucking you on the stairs,” he replies. “Don't think that'd be good for either of our backs. Also, it's times like this when I'm glad Paul never insisted to add cameras inside.”

Louis freezes at that, Harry stumbling back a bit because their hands are still intertwined. “Are you sure?” he asks when Harry turns to him with a raised brow. “Are you sure he hasn't added them?”

Harry smirks at him. “I'm sure. But just in case he has can we move it to the bedroom now?”

Harry starts making his way back up the stairs, Louis following slowly behind him. “What if he put cameras in there?”

He hears Harry laugh at him. “God, you're cute when you get like this.”

“God, you're annoying when you get like this,” Louis replies. “Get like what?” he adds as an afterthought as they finish climbing the stairs. 

Harry turns to him then, pulling Louis to him, so they're straight against each other. “All paranoid like,” he answers, as Louis starts mouthing at his chest through his shirt. “Sure it'd get annoying after a while, but I quite like it.”

“I quite like you,” Louis catches himself mumbling into the fabric. Pulling back he says, “I thought we were going to your bedroom?”

Harry smiles, stepping out of Louis's grasp. “We can go in there now.”

Then he's walking down the hall away from Louis.

“God,” Louis sighs, awkwardly trailing after him because his dick is rubbing against his pants. “If this is you're form of teasing, I don't like it.”

“You're following me aren't you?”

“'cause you made my dick hard!”

Harry huffs out a laugh opening the door to his room. He steps aside, motioning for Louis to go in. Harry walks in behind him, shutting the door. It's dark, the only light coming from the beams of moonlight through the windows and balcony door. 

“You have a sofa in your bedroom” he comments, but he doesn't have time to say anything else because Harry's pushing him against the wall, connecting his lips to Louis's neck again, only breaking away when he pulls Louis's shirt off him.

Harry's sucking a bruise into his collarbone, his hands roaming all over Louis's body, making him arch off the wall. Louis slips his hands under the waistband of Harry's trackies.

“Want these off,” he mumbles into Harry's ear, mouth brushing against him.

Harry moans when Louis palms at him. Louis takes that as confirmation that Harry wants them off as well, so he pushes them down to mid-thigh. Harry presses a kiss to the bruise he's been making and steps away, pulling them off completely, so he's left in his pants and tee. 

“I want-,” he cuts himself off. “Bed,” he says instead of what he'd been planning. “Bed. Bed now. _Bed_.”

Louis smiles at him, follows Harry to the bed where he's already lowered himself down on his back.

“Eager,” he comments, crawling over Harry.

He swallows Harry's reply with a kiss. The kiss starts out slowly, but Harry's let his hands travel to cup Louis's arse, occasionally squeezing, and Louis can't stop himself from grinding on Harry.

“Shirt,” he huffs out. “Shirt off.”

He's jostled a bit as Harry leans up, pulling his shirt off over his head, revealing his chest, tattoos on full display. Louis can't look away. He's seen Harry's tattoos before, but it's a whole other thing to see them when Harry's skin is flushed and covered in a layer of sweat.

“See something you like?” Harry asks, smirking up at him.

“Shut up,” he mutters as he shimmies down Harry's body a bit, so he can start tracing the lines of Harry's tattoos with his tongue making his way to one of Harry's nipples. He sucks it into his mouth, flicking his tongue back and forth. Harry's hips jerk up, hands squeezing Louis's arse.

He's letting out these little moans and gasps for breath as Louis continues playing with his nipple and grinding into him that has Louis very much wanting to get them off in just this way, but he wants to give Harry whatever he wants.

He lightly grazes his teeth over Harry's nipple then pulls back. Looking Harry in the eyes, he asks, “What do you want, Harry?”

Harry gazes up at him, eyes half-lidded. “Want your mouth,” he says, earning a smirk from Louis.

“How long have you wanted that?”

“Since I saw you.”

“You've no idea what that's doing to my ego, love.”

“Considered not saying anything at all.”

“Then I wouldn't be about to suck your cock.”

Harry groans, hips bucking up and Louis takes that as his cue to start. He shimmies down the length of Harry's body, using his knees to separate Harry's legs, then settles down between them. He starts mouthing as Harry through his pants, earning little moans and gasps of air from Harry.

When he's satisfied that he's worked Harry up enough this way, he slips his fingers into Harry's briefs, slowly pulling them down, freeing Harry's dick. Louis grabs a hold of it, running his thumb over the slit where bits of precome are leaking out of it. 

Harry shivers. “Please do something,” he begs, which is enough incentive for Louis to take a breath and bend down.

He starts peppering kisses up the inside of Harry's thigh, nibbling at the extra sensitive skin. When he reaches Harry's balls, he starts mouthing along them, tongue working over the seam of his sac, causing Harry to moan loudly, before he moves to start sucking wet kisses up the shaft. When he reaches the tip, he presses a kiss there then sinks halfway down, hand covering what his mouth isn't. It tastes bitter, but sweet at the same time and when he starts sucking he hears Harry start moaning his name.

He pulls off after a while, taking a breath. It's been a while since he's done this and he's a bit self-conscious about it, but Harry seems to be enjoying it if the way he glares at Louis when he pulls off is anything to go by.

“Why did you stop?” he demands, though his voice is raspy so it's probably not as demanding as he wanted it to be.

“Be patient,” Louis says, pumping Harry's cock. “Taking my time, love.”

Harry drops his head back when Louis takes him in his mouth again. He sucks at the tip, then pulls back, a small trail of saliva hanging off his mouth.

He takes another deep breath, then sinks all the way down. His eyes water up when Harry's dick hits the back of his throat, muscles constricting. He hears Harry gasp out a “fuck” and he takes a moment to get used to this, then he pulls back, stopping to suck at the tip, hand pumping the shaft.

After a while of that, Louis sinks back down again, nose hitting Harry's coarse hair. Harry's hips rut up when Louis starts sucking, making his eyes flutter shut as he swallows around him.

Harry's loud. His indecipherable moans and gasps egging Louis on. He can tell Harry's having a hard time controlling himself, so Louis pulls off, smirking up at him. He's got a hand thrown over his eyes, the other tangled in the duvet.

“You can fuck my mouth if you want,” he says. Harry moans loudly at that, so he adds, “And be as loud as you want. I like it.”

He licks his lips, squeezes Harry's cock, then sinks all the way back down, but he doesn't move, doesn't even suck. He knows what Harry wants and he wants it too and he's perfectly willing to stay here with Harry's cock in his mouth all night if he has to until Harry gives in.

He ends up not having to wait all night because Harry's gently wrapping a hand in his hair, pulling back a bit. Louis closes his eyes, allowing Harry to fuck up into his mouth. He places a hand on Harry's thigh, bracing himself a bit and lets Harry take complete control.

He's moaning Louis's name and thrusting into his mouth. It's not deterring him, only making him suck harder. He can feel his throat constricting around Harry's cock and he so desperately wants to get a hand on his, so he slides his hand down and starts palming at himself.

When he opens his eyes, he immediately sees Harry watching where his lips are stretched around his cock. He can feel a string of spit there, but he doesn't care as Harry thrusts into his mouth again. Then he stops thrusting all together, whining and Louis knows he's about to come, so he starts sucking as hard as he can hoping Harry gets what he's trying to tell him.

It's another minute of Louis swallowing around him before Harry's starts thrusting erratically, grip in his hair is tightening, and he's spilling into Louis's mouth. Louis lets Harry hold him there, swallowing down his come as Harry twitches and moans.

When Harry goes still, Louis pulls off, straightening up and licking his lips.

Harry's sits up as well, eyes where Louis's got a hand on himself. “Take those off,” he orders.

Louis does as he's told, stripping so his painfully hard cock is springing up, leaking at the tip.

“Come here,” Harry says, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him into his lap.

He wraps his legs around Harry's waist and lets Harry kiss him, loves the fact that he knows Harry can taste himself on Louis. He's so lost in the kiss that he startles when Harry wraps a hand around his cock.

It doesn't take much more of them kissing and Harry pumping his hand up and down his dick, occasionally running his thumb over his slit, before he's spilling over into Harry's hand, his moan being swallowed up by Harry's mouth.

They kiss languidly, both still coming down from their highs before Harry's slowly laying back, taking Louis with him. When Harry finally breaks the kiss, Louis slides off of him, settling on his back.

“That was...” Harry trails off. 

Louis turns his head to look at him. He's staring at the ceiling, but he can see a smile playing at his lips.

“You're welcome, Curly,” he says, turning on his side to face him.

Harry turns his head. He's beaming at Louis, but Louis can tell that he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

“See,” he starts, having a hard time keeping his own eyes open, “be glad I didn't let you get that puppy a few months back because this is the part where one of us would have to get up to let it in.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“We'd have it locked out,” he explains. “It'd want back in.”

“I would never lock it,” Harry replies, affronted.

“So, you'd let it watch us have sex?” he questions when Harry goes to say more.

Harry snaps his mouth shut. “That is a good point,” he replies slowly. 

They fall into a silence at that, watching each other as they both struggle to stay awake. There's a beam of moonlight streaming through the window, illuminating Harry. His skin is still a bit flushed and he's got a drop of Louis's come drying on his chest, but he's still so damn beautiful.

“So, you'll stay?” Harry asks, breaking the silence.

Louis sighs. “I literally live right down the hall.”

“So, you're staying?” Harry asks again, unsure.

“Yes,” he says smiling. 

Harry smiles back at him. “Good. Spoon me.”

Then he's flipping over onto his other side. Louis chuckles as he moves around, freeing the duvet from under them. He pulls it up, shuffling toward Harry so his chest is flush against Harry's back. When he wraps his arm around Harry's front, Harry sighs, shuffling back into him.

Louis settles his head just behind Harry's. He can smell Harry's shampoo and sweat and Harry must have already fallen asleep because his breathing has changed, coming out in small, rhythmic puffs.

Like this, in the dark, curled around Harry, he's not sure why he ever thought this was a bad idea.

**

Most mornings, Louis wakes up slowly, greeting the day with barely opened eyes and groans. This isn't most mornings, though, and he almost _wishes_ it were like most mornings.

When he wakes up, with his eyes still closed, he's immediately aware of the body he's wrapped around. His eyes fly open and his heartbeat quickens. 

_Holy fuck._

He slept with Harry. 

This was a bad idea. What does he do? This shouldn't have happened. The last time he slept with someone connected to one of his jobs he ended up in prison.

_Shit shit shit._

It's Sao Paulo all over again. Sao Paulo 2.0 is happening, but god this is so much worse. It's _Harry_. And it's Zayn's job he's potentially just fucked up, not his.

He has to get out of here, needs some space away from Harry to think this through. He needs a game plan, preferably one that doesn't end up _with him in prison_.

Harry still seems to be sound asleep, but he's still careful not to jostle him too much when he slides his arm off of Harry and out of the bed. He quickly glances around the room to find clothes. There's a pair of trackies at his feet. There's a possibility they're Harry's, but he can't afford to care at this point. He just wants out of the room.

He bends, picking them up, then moves to stand next to the sofa. He snorts at it – seriously who has a fucking sofa in their bedroom.

As he's finishing pulling on the trackies, he hears shuffling coming from the bed.

“Oh god,” he hears Harry groan, then Harry's shooting up in the bed, eyes wide staring at Louis.

_Shit._

He just caught Louis trying to sneak out. This is so much worse than he'd thought this could go. Harry's probably hurt and angry that Louis's trying to sneak out, so that's just another thing to add to his list of bad things he has to deal with.

“You sneaking out?”

“Uh,” he drawls out, looking everywhere but at Harry. “No.”

“Wish you would have been quicker.”

Louis's head snaps up at that. “What?”

Harry looks mildly apologetic. “Sorry. Just, it's nice to know that you're panicking too.”

It's not what he was expecting. In fact, this is the opposite of what he was expecting. Why is Harry panicking? He shouldn't be, should he? Also, Louis sneaking out means nothing. It doesn't mean he's panicking. How dare Harry just assume that. Although, he was. Can he tell? Is his fingers doing the twitching thing?

He spares a glance down at his fingers. They aren't doing anything, not that Harry could tell anyway, but it's a relief and he really needs to pull himself together.

But Harry's panicking – he can see it in the way his eyes are wide and never linger on one thing for too long, the way he's clutching the duvet in one hand – and Louis has an overwhelming want to know why.

He starts to ask, but Harry's cutting him off. “This shouldn't have happened,” he grumbles, looking around for his clothes.

Louis spots Harry's trackies, grabs them and tosses them over to him. While Harry puts them on, Louis finds his shirt, pulling that on.

“We shouldn't have done this,” Harry continues, grabbing Louis's attention.

It hurts probably more than it should, the knowledge that Harry regrets this for whatever reason, but he can't let that show. He shouldn't be affected by it at all.

“You're right,” he agrees, turning to face Harry, who's moved to sit on the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor.

Harry's eyes settle on him. “You work for me.”

“I do.”

“This was bad.” Harry pauses, making a face. “Well, not bad bad because, you know, the sex was quite good.”

Louis snorts at that. The sex was much better than quite good. He goes to say as much, but Harry's continuing.

“But this situation is bad,” he finishes, dropping his gaze to the floor.

Louis sighs. It is, but Harry can't possibly know why Louis considers it bad.

He crosses the room, sitting next to Harry on the bed, careful to leave space between them.

“I know why I agree with you,” he says. “But I don't know why you think that.”

Harry takes a deep breath, twining his fingers together in his lap. “You work for me.”

“So you said.”

“I just mean, that, I don't want to be involved with someone I work with.”

And if Louis were a different person and in a slightly different situation, he'd take that to mean that Harry didn't want to be involved with someone “beneath” him, but he knows Harry and the situation is different.

“I'm literally paying you to work for me,” he continues, staring a hole through his lap. “I don't want either of us to feel like that's all this is, you know? I don't want you to feel like I'm paying you for it or not. And I'm not going to fire you so I can sleep with you.”

Louis's heart melts. He should tell Harry that he's wrong, that Louis wouldn't feel that way and that if Harry fired him, he'd be perfectly okay with that. Harry wouldn't fire him, though, that much he knew already. Harry really is a great fucking person, he thinks, ignoring the rational part of his brain that's telling him to just agree with Harry and leave as quickly as possible. 

He can't ignore it for too long, though, because Zayn's popping up in his head, reminding him that he is on a job.

“I agree,” he says eventually. “I do work for you. It's my job to protect you. If I get too close to you and start developing feelings – more than I already have – it could cloud my judgment on certain situations and bad things could happen.”

It's only half the truth. The other half being the thing he can't mention to Harry because he'd definitely end up in prison.

He can't let this happen again. He can't let his guard down like that, can't let his feelings for Harry throw him off the job. He can't disappoint Zayn, can't let another job be ruined because he couldn't keep it in his pants.

“This can't happen again,” he concludes, watching Harry out of the corner of his eye.

“I agree,” Harry nods. “But like.” He cuts himself off, shifting so he can look at Louis. “Can we promise we won't let this affect us? I understand if it does, but...”

“Yeah, I promise.”

Harry nods, not saying anything. 

They sit in a mildly uncomfortable silence for a few seconds more before Louis stands. Looking down at Harry he says, “Don't forget. Someone from the office is coming over today to get you up to date.”

And just like that Harry's perpetual bad mood from the past couple of days is back as he scowls up at Louis.

“I wouldn't need to be kept up to date if I could actually leave the house.”

“Paul's orders, mate. Gotta follow them,” he says somewhat regretfully. “You should appreciate that he cares so much.”

Harry's scowl turns into a pout, as he crosses his arms. “I do appreciate it,” he says. “I just don't like being stuck in one place like this. I need to socialize, Louis. I'm a sociable person.”

“Well, with any luck, it'll be Niall they send,” he says, turning his back to Harry as he walks toward the door. “Niall's as sociable as any.”

“It better be Niall,” Harry mutters, barely audible from across the room. “Louis,” he adds when Louis reaches the door.

Louis turns back to him. Harry's standing now, arms wrapped around himself. “We are okay, right?”

It's said so softly and so full of worry that Louis's smiling at him before he can think. “Of course,” he replies. “Now, get ready. If it's not Niall they send, you're going to give off a very unprofessional vibe looking like that.”

Harry lets out a tiny laugh, but he still looks unsure. There's nothing Louis can do about it, so he nods slightly, then walks out.

Once he gets to his own room and the door is safely shut behind him, he lets the panic take complete control. He lets himself fall face first into his bed, his nose squished into his pillow. 

He's fucked up, royally fucked up. He shouldn't have let it happen, it shouldn't have even come close to what had happened. They agreed it wouldn't happen again, but Louis knows that no matter how much Harry wants things to be normal after this, it won't be.

This has probably set him back quite a bit. Zayn's going to be pissed. Not that Louis's going to tell him. There's a good chance he can get by without Zayn ever figuring it out. He hopes to God that Zayn doesn't find out – he hopes none of them do. It'll just bring back their reservations about Louis being able to do his jobs without fucking it up.

It's not fucked up, he tries lying to himself. It's just gotten a little more complicated, but the job can still be done. Zayn doesn't have to find out. It's not a big deal.

Louis flops over to his back, staring up at the ceiling. His breathing has evened out quite a bit and the panic has subsided. It's still there in the pit of his stomach, where it will always be as long as he's on this job. There's not anything he can do about it except try to ignore it. He's usually good at that.

Yeah, that's what he'll do. Except, he may have agreed that they wouldn't sleep together again, and while there's a part of him that completely agrees, there's that part of him that doesn't. That part of him that wants to push Harry against whatever surface is closest and take him apart slowly until Harry can't remember his own name.

He shouldn't be having thoughts like that.

Sighing, Louis pushes himself up into a sitting position. It's still morning and all he wants to do is crawl back into bed and sleep for the rest of his life. It's a nice thought, but he can't, not when he still has a job to do. He sighs again, glaring at the wall in front of him. 

Maybe he can throw himself off his balcony. No, he can't do that. With his luck, he'd live through it without a scratch. That only leaves one option: just deal with it. Finish out the job to make Zayn happy, then take a long holiday. That sounds good.

Sighing for the third time, he climbs off the bed an prays to every god in the universe it's not Niall coming.

**

When Louis had let Niall in he'd declared, “They send me with fun!”, and held up a large briefcase that looked anything but fun.

Louis hadn't stuck around long enough to know what job related things they were talking about because he didn't want to be around Harry – or Niall for that matter. Things had been a bit awkward since this morning, even though they'd agreed that it wasn't. It's nothing too bad, but he still something he didn't want to deal with this early of the day, especially not around Niall's piercing stare. He didn't think he could without having some sort of a breakdown.

At some point Niall and Harry had moved out of the office and into the room with Louis. He's been trying to ignore them, trying to ignore the looks Harry's giving him. He's failing, feels squeamish being in the same room with Harry, but he can't get up and leave. That'd be too obvious and he's almost positive Niall's already picked up on the weird tension in the room.

Niall's pacing, occasionally listing something off to Harry, who's sitting in the armchair, papers spread out in his lap. There's tension in the room, yeah, but it's also oddly calm so when Harry's phone rings they all startle.

Harry grabs it from the coffee table. His brow furrows when he looks at who's calling. Standing he says, “Sorry, I've got to take this.” Then he answers the phone with a quick “Hello”.

As soon as Harry's out of the room, Niall turns on him.

“You fucked him,” he says simply, stopping Louis's heart momentarily.

“What?” he splutters, eyes wide in panic.

“Don't lie to me, Louis. I can tell.”

Niall isn't judging him, that much is easy to tell, but he still knows and that's enough for Louis's panic to stay, but he also knows Niall well enough to know that he won't mention it to Zayn if Louis begs him not to.

Louis sighs, leaning back in his chair. He doesn't know what to say. Everything is still a jumbled mess in his head and he's not sure he could even begin to explain it to him.

“Are you going to tell Zayn?” Niall asks, settling down in Harry's vacated chair.

Louis's shaking his head before Niall can finish asking the question. “No.”

“Louis, what are ya doin'?”

“I don't know,” he admits, willing himself to sink into the cushions and disappear. 

It doesn't work. He's still here with Niall, facing an uncomfortable situation.

Niall takes a deep breath, placing his elbows on his knees. “Look, I don't know all that's going on. I don't want to know. I don't want you to tell me because if something goes wrong I want to be able to tell Zayn I didn't know anything. With that being said, if there's something you desperately need to talk about I will listen and I will try my best to help.”

“I don't know what's happening,” he sighs. “I can't tell you what's happening because I don't know.”

Niall's face is one of pity when Louis looks up at him. “Louis,” he breathes out. “I'm not going to ask you what I really want to ask you because you know, plausible deniability and all, but I am going to remind you that relationships in this business don't work out.” Louis snorts, causing Niall's face to soften. “Even if this job wasn't involved you know it'd be impossible to have anything with Harry.”

Louis lets his head fall back, groaning. “I know. Okay, I know that.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“I think you need to -.”

Niall's cut off by Harry coming back into the room, pocketing his phone.

“Sorry about that,” he says. 

“Not a problem,” Niall replies, giving the chair back to Harry. 

On his way back to pacing the room, he pats Louis on the shoulder in what Louis is sure is meant to be a reassuring gesture, but it's not when Harry's across from him and everything is fucked up.

**

Things with Harry haven't gotten much better. Everything is still awkward, even if there's a small chance of it all being in Louis's head. He's pretty sure that if it had been all in his head before it isn't now.

Paul had finally allowed Harry to leave the house, much to Harry's delight, but Harry leaving the house meant leaving the country because Harry had some sort of meeting with some important person in New York.

Liam didn't like it when Louis told him because “What if you have a problem at US customs, Louis?”. Louis didn't like it for a whole different reason.

Louis was the only one accompanying Harry to New York, which meant they were spending all their time together, alone. They hadn't spoken much on the plane, both choosing to sleep. It's been harder to not talk to one another now that they've been in the hotel for two days. However, they do have a two bedroom suite, so it hasn't been as hard as he thought it _would_ have been.

They're leaving sometime tomorrow evening and Louis's hoping they can make it through the rest of the night without the awkwardness killing them. Though, Harry's just stepped out of his room, and poured himself a drink from the bar, so who knows what's going to happen.

Louis himself has had a couple of drinks. He wasn't going to pass up the opportunity when Harry said he just wanted to stay in tonight. But he's had a couple of drinks of whatever it was he grabbed from the bar and he can't stop the way his eyes rake over Harry's body as he messes around at the bar.

It's a dangerous game, he's playing, but when has his life ever not been dangerous? Never, that's when, except maybe when he was a child, but that doesn't count to him.

He might be drunker than he thought. What the hell has he been drinking?

“Smirnoff,” Harry answers, causing Louis to startle. “Sorry,” he adds, turning away from the bar. “Did you not know you asked out loud?”

“You can't read my thoughts can you?”

Harry raises an amused eyebrow. “No. Wish I could.” He pauses, worry crossing over his face. “You didn't realize you were drinking straight vodka?”

Louis looks down at the bottle in his hand. “No.”

“Not sure that's a good thing, to be quite honest.”

“Probably not,” he says, taking another swig from the bottle.

Now that Harry mentions it, it does burn quite a bit more than it should.

He lifts the bottle at Harry who's now sat next to him on the sofa. “Want some?”

Harry shakes his head, holding up his own drink. “'m fine, thanks.” He takes a look around the room, eyes stopping when he gets to Louis. “Have you been sitting here doing nothing but drinking?”

“Yes, my dear Harold I have.”

Harry hums. “I drank three Jack and Coke's by myself.”

Does Harry have a bar in his room? 

“Do you have a bar in your room?”

Harry chuckles at that. “No, I got them all from here. Did you not notice me come in?” When Louis shakes his head, he adds, “Didn't think you did. You've been staring at the wall. What are you thinking about?”

He considers lying for half a second. He ultimately decides against it.

“You,” he answers. “Just now when you came in I was thinking about your bum and how perky it is.”

Harry spits out the drink he just took. Louis frown at him. “Don't make a mess.”

“You think my bum's perky?” he asks after he's recovered, setting the drink on the table.

“Among other things. Like to get my hands on it.”

God. He should stop fucking talking before he lets something else slip, but Harry's blushing and his eyes are lighting up with something very similar to That Night.

“You could,” he proposes, scooting closer to him.

“We agreed it wouldn't happen again,” he points out.

In a way, he's shocked he could remember that, let alone that he cared enough to tell Harry about it. Never let it be said that Louis isn't a thoughtful drunk. Or is thoughtful not the right word? Anyway, he cares is the point.

“We did,” Harry nods. “But like you want it. I want it.”

“So we should?” Louis finishes, turning his body to face Harry more directly.

“Only if you want,” Harry answers.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

He lets himself consider the repercussions of this. He knows there is, knows there should be. He knows there's a reason this is a bad idea, but Harry's body is right next to him and he feels fuzzy from the alcohol. He sets the bottle of Smirnoff on the table next to Harry's abandoned drink.

“Okay,” he mutters, then surges forward, connecting their lips.

Harry's slow to respond at first, but he does, settling a hand on Louis's waist, pulling him closer. They kiss and kiss, with each passing second it's getting more heated and with each passing second he's having a harder time remembering why this is a bad idea.

“Want to blow you,” Harry sighs into his mouth after a while.

“Okay.”

Louis lets Harry lean him back on the sofa and blow him until he's coming in white spurts on Harry's face and he returns the favor, letting Harry fuck into his mouth again with a tight grip in his hair.

He completely forgets that this is a bad idea at all and that he'll – _they'll_ – regret this in the morning, when Harry takes him into his bedroom for round two.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis gets caught in a lie and makes a breakthrough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually have anything to say. I feel like I should, though, but my mind is blank. I will say that the whole thing is written, just has to go through some editing, so the next chapter will be up next Friday.  
> Also, as another reminder, things do get pretty ugly and violent towards the end, so you know keep that in mind as you continue on.  
> Thank you all for reading.

He wakes up slowly on his side facing Harry, startling at Harry's close proximity. Harry's eyes are open and watching him, a worried frown etched on his face and for a brief second Louis doesn't know why, but as he shuffles around he realizes he's got a headache and the night before comes flooding back to him.

“Oh god,” he groans, moving to lay on his back, arm slung over his face.

“Yup,” Harry agrees, popping the “p” as he shifts around in the bed.

Louis lifts his arm, peaking up at Harry. He's perched on his elbow, looking down at Louis. 

He smiles at Harry, dryly. “What happens in New York, stays in New York?”

To his surprise, Harry laughs. He's laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach. “Thought it was Vegas,” he comments when he's calmed down.

“Eh,” Louis shrugs or he tries anyway. He's still on his back, so he's not sure what he did resembles a shrug. “Whatever.”

“Are we going to talk about this?”

Louis sighs, pushing himself up into a sitting position, the duvet pooling around his hips. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, angling his body toward Harry. “Because I'll be fine if we don't, but mind you, this has happened twice now. This time _after_ we agreed not to.”

Harry's looking up at him, the hand he's not rested on, playing with a stray thread from the duvet. “It has happened twice,” he says, nodding. “We can agree it won't happen again, but I'm not sure we'd stick to it. I mean, we didn't last time,” he finishes with a small smile.

“The sex is good. Not sure I could walk away from it,” Louis comments, then slams his eyes closed, cringing when he realizes what he's said. 

When he opens his eyes Harry's looking up at him, amusement clear in his expression. “Same. And like, it's really dangerous for me to try to be with anyone at the moment,” he says. “You know, because of the death threats and all,” he adds when he sees Louis's confused expression.

And just like that it hits him what Harry's insinuating. It's a terrible idea, the _worst_ idea. Going against his better judgment because that's what he always does in these situations, he plays along.

“Right,” he drawls out. “Can't really trust anyone and “let my bodyguard run a background check” isn't the best line, to be honest. Not to mention it'd be dangerous for the person.”

Harry's nodding along and adding, “You don't have time for a relationship of any kind because you're too busy saving my arse.”

Louis nods. “Yes, yes. I see what you're saying, Styles. I quite like it.”

Harry's smile grows. “It's not like there's a law against it.”

“There might be somewhere,” Louis points out with a furrowed brow. 

Harry playfully smacks him on the arm. “You're an idiot.”

“And you want to get into my pants,” he replies with a smile.

Harry pushes himself up, so they're face to face. “Hate to break it to you, love, but I already have,” he says. “Twice.”

“Doesn't mean I have to let you again.”

Harry scoots closer to him. “So are we agreeing to let this happen?”

He should say no. He should say no right now and go take a cold shower, but he's never been good when it comes to impulse control and gorgeous men, so he leans forward pressing a small kiss to Harry's lips. 

When he pulls back, Harry's smiling and flushed. “I'd have to be mad to turn down having Harry Styles in my bed.”

Harry smirks. “That's a yes. We're doing this and I think we should make it effective immediately.”

He doesn't wait for Louis to respond as he pulls Louis into a passionate kiss. 

It's a bad decision, but, much like last night, he doesn't care enough to think about it because he's got a fit man trailing his hands down to his very hard dick. 

It's a bad decision and Zayn's probably going to kill him if he finds out, but Harry's pushing him down on the mattress as he sucks a bruise into Louis's skin, causing Louis forget all about Zayn.

**

Louis hates flying with a passion. He can never sit still and people on planes are fucking inconsiderate. The people grate on his nerves with the kicking of his seat, the loud talkers, people who don't shower or wear deodorant, there's a long list. He hates flying with a passion.

Flying on Harry's private jet, just the two of them in the cabin, Harry on his knees blowing Louis, has made him rethink his previous position on flying and why the fuck he hadn't allowed himself to do anything with Harry sooner. Because flying with Harry on his private jet is fantastic and sex with Harry is even better. Though, he could be thinking this because they're on their way home and Harry hasn't a thing on his schedule for the rest of the day and he'd promised to do _that thing_ again.

He has a brief moment of considering putting the partition up and asking if Harry will do _that thing_ right here, right now in the back of the car. He wonders how unprofessional that would be, decides against it because as much as he likes Steve he's not entirely sure Steve wouldn't tell Paul.

Scratch that, he knows Steve would tell Paul and that wouldn't be good for either Harry or Louis.

“Paul's not going to keep me locked up anymore is he?”

Louis turns to face Harry, sees the way he's slouched and staring out the window. A pang of sympathy flows through him. “Not sure, but it can't be too bad, yeah?” Harry turns to him with a furrowed brow. “Think of all we could do if you can't leave the house.”

Harry's confusion quickly melts into a smile. “I'm already planning it.”

Louis quirks an eyebrow. “Do I get a say in-.”

He's cut off by his phone ringing. It's Liam. He hits the ignore button. He immediately gets a text saying, **answer the damn phone.** And then another immediately following that says, **urgent danger.**

That gets Louis's attention. Sitting up straighter, he's frowning at Harry as the phone starts ringing again. “Sorry. Got to take it,” he says to Harry, who nods and turns back to the window. He answers the phone with, “This better be a joke.”

“It's not, Lou, believe me,” Liam answers. “Paul left an hour ago. Whoever these people are showed up about ten minutes ago. I'm waiting on Niall before I do anything.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” he asks, exasperated. “I can't very well bring him home to a shootout.”

He's aware of Harry spinning around to stare at him, as Liam says, “No idea. Stall or something. Talk out your arse. You're good at that. And there's no guarantee this will turn into a shootout.”

“They're still there, though.” Liam hums in response, but doesn't offer a suggestion. Louis sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, you know what. I'm going to take him to mine. I'll let Paul know.”

“Alright. Niall and I will try to get this sorted as quick as possible.”

“Let me know when this is fixed.”

Liam says, “Sure will.”

“And Liam,” Louis says quickly before Liam can end the call. “Thanks for, you know.”

“Not a problem,” Liam responds, but he makes it sound like it's very much a problem. “Ah. Here's Niall. Gotta go.”

When Liam ends the call, Louis brings up his GPS and taps in his address. He leans forward, tapping Steve on the shoulder. “We need to go here. There's a problem at Harry's, so we're going to mine.”

Steve glances at the phone, then up to the rear view mirror. He looks skeptical, but he nods and grabs the phone.

He relaxes into his seat, sighing again. Liam and Niall are professionals, he tells himself. They'll be fine.

“What's going on?” Harry asks, still staring at Louis.

Louis takes one look at Harry, head slightly tilted, worried frown, eyes questioning, but trusting. He can't lie to Harry, not about these things.

“There's some dangerous people at your house,” he says. “I'm taking you to mine, until Niall and Liam sort it out.”

Harry doesn't flinch, doesn't show any inclination of being bothered by this. “What about Paul?” he asks slowly. “He's not there is he?”

Louis shakes his head. “Had a meeting or something. I don't know. By the time he gets back Liam and Niall will have done their thing and everything will be okay.”

Harry nods. “Okay.” Then he leans back into the seat and turns back to the window.

Louis should ask him if he's alright, how he's doing, or something, but he's more preoccupied with Liam and Niall and what's going on there. There's also the fact that Louis made a split second decision to take Harry to his – Louis's flat where there's a shitload of evidence that Louis's lying to Harry. Just the fact that it's in an upscale neighborhood is enough to give something away.

There's nothing he can do about it now, though. It'd be too suspicious if he changed his plans, not that he has anywhere else for them to go. 

He props his arm against the window, leaning his head against it. He sighs again. This was supposed to be a nice day that had him and Harry spending the day in bed together, but now he's worrying about this situation and whether or not he's just made a decision that's going to expose him. 

This day has gone to fucking shit. Then he remembers he still has to tell Paul. 

He leans forward, grabbing his phone from where Steve had rested it on the seat and pulls up his text thread with Paul. He lets him know what's happening at the house, that's he's got a friend dealing with it and that he's taking Harry back to his. He adds that Paul shouldn't worry and they'd get in contact later.

When he's done, he puts the phone where Steve had it and leans his head against the window. Closing his eyes, he silently counts down the minutes until he's back in his flat.

**

Harry had walked in and immediately set to looking over the place. Louis had stood, silently watching as Harry's eyes slowly scanned the room taking in the expensive furniture and things that he'd definitely acquired on the job through the years. When Harry's eyes had landed on Louis he'd quirked his eyebrow in a silent question.

Louis had shrugged, telling him it was something that he'd gotten when some distant relative that hated the rest of the family had died. Harry seemed to accept it easily, then mentioned he wanted to nap. Louis showed Harry to the bedroom – his bedroom since he's never had reason or cared enough to buy a bed for either of his two guest rooms. 

After making sure there wasn't anything incriminating lying around, he told Harry he needed to check up on the house situation and left Harry alone.

Truthfully, he wanted to call Zayn, but he's still made sure that Harry is asleep before dialing, his paranoia telling him that if awake Harry could hear the conversation he's having with Zayn.

Zayn answers on the third ring, voice sounding slightly worried. It's probably because they never actually speak on the phone, choosing one word texts and occasional emails instead.

“Why are you calling me?”

“Have you talked to Liam or Niall?” he asks, ignoring Zayn's own question.

“What happened?” Zayn rushes out, prompting Louis to launch into an explanation of the last hour's events.

When he's finished Zayn's so quiet for such a long time, Louis has to make sure he hasn't hung up. When Zayn finally does speak it's with mild curiosity.

“So why are you calling me?”

“I don't think being at Harry's is safe,” he answers. “For either of us,” he adds as an afterthought.

“How so?”

“They know that's where he lives, Zayn,” he says in disbelief. “I spend the same amount of time there as Harry does.” 

“What are you saying, Lou?” 

What _is_ he saying? 

Certainly that he's not safe at Harry's. He's certainly not comfortable taking himself or Harry back there because these people know where Harry lives now. It's not like he can drop Harry off at home, saying, “Have a good time. It's too dangerous for me now”, and leave. It definitely wouldn't look good to Paul and Louis has his actual job to do. Not to mention, he'd actually like to keep Harry alive.

There's got to be some sort of protocol for this type of situation. Taking the target out of the area and securing them some place safe is probably the best possibility, which really gives him no choice.

“I'm saying I think I'm going to suggest Harry stay here for a while,” he's saying before he realizes. “They don't know where I live. I'm not even sure they know who I am. It's safer here.” 

“It's probably not a good idea,” Zayn replies.

Which, yeah, it's not. It's a risk just having Harry here for a couple of hours, but it's not risking their lives, so he's willing to chance it.

“I'm doing it anyway,” he says with an air of finality.

“Okay. And while you're playing house with Styles, figure out where he keeps it.”

He hangs up, not giving Louis a chance to respond. He sighs at his phone. Seeing he has a text, he checks it. It's from Liam telling him that him and Niall were able to run off the bad guys, but that's all. They weren't able to do much else on the figuring out who they are front.

He sends a text to Liam thanking him, then sends a text to Paul telling him the situation has been dissolved, but that they're aren't any leads.

He throws his phone next to him on the sofa, leaning his head back. He's made the decision to have Harry stay with him, but now he has to mention it to Harry. There's no way for him to know how Harry will react, not that he thinks Harry will react badly. It's just that no one likes being told it's too dangerous to be at your own home and that you need to stay somewhere else.

Maybe he should run it by Paul first, he thinks. He kills the idea quickly. He knows Paul would agree with him. It'd be keeping Harry out of dangerous territory and this is the same man that kept Harry locked up in the house for a week.

He hopes Harry wakes up soon, so he can get this over with.

**

Louis wanted to change clothes, that's the only reason he went into his bedroom. He'd honestly thought Harry was still sleeping, but when Louis had opened the door Harry was propped against the headboard, scrolling on his phone.

“Oh,” Louis mutters. “Didn't know you were awake.”

How long _had_ he been awake for?

Harry looks up from his phone, features still tired. “Woke up a while ago. I was still tired, but I couldn't get back to sleep.”

Louis nods, not knowing what else to say as Harry watches him with an amused tilt to his mouth.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks him, eying where Louis's still standing in the doorway. 

Louis clears his throat, stepping further into his room.

It's a bit weird, seeing Harry in his bed. The only people that ever come in this flat is him, the lads and his cleaning lady Amelia, which is only making him doubt his decision to have Harry stay here. 

His home is where he's most vulnerable, the most relaxed. Having Harry here, so close to things that could ruin this job, isn't relaxing in the least, but Harry's safe, which by extension means Louis is safe.

“I, uh, I just wanted to change clothes,” he answers, coming to a stop by the bed. “But now that you're awake I need to talk to you.”

Harry scoots his feet up, clearing a space for Louis to sit. He sets his phone on the bedside table, then nods at Louis. “Go on.”

“I had an idea,” he starts. “And Paul agrees with me.”

Eventually, he had decided to talk it over with Paul, so he'd sent a text explaining why he thought having Harry stay with him for a while was a good idea. A little surprisingly, Paul had immediately agreed adding that he was going to stay away from the house for a while as well. Whether Harry wants this or not, it's two against one.

“You're going to stay here,” he continues, watching as Harry cocks his head to the side. “These people know where you live, so it's dangerous to have you at home. At least for now. Paul and I agree you'd be safer here. So even if you don't want to you have to.”

Harry looks a little affronted at that last part, but he nods. “Okay. As long as you don't mind, of course.”

Louis tries biting back his smile, but he fails. “Of course I don't mind.”

Harry smiles back at him. “I guess I'm staying here then.”

“I guess you are.”

They stare at each other, smiling for Louis's not sure how long. It's only until Harry's phone starts buzzing on the table that they break.

Harry reaches for his phone, but freezes. “Hang on,” he says, turning his full attention back to Louis. “How am I meant to get my things?”

He hadn't thought about that. It completely slipped his mind. Luckily, he's a quick thinking. Luckily, he knows Niall.

“I'll just go text Niall and have him stop by.”

“Is that safe?”

“Yeah. You know, Niall has about as much experience with this sort of thing as I do. He'll be fine.”

Harry nods, but his brow furrows. “How's he meant to get in? What about Paul?”

“Niall will get in, don't you worry,” he says. 

It's a damn good thing he's got professional criminals as friends. Niall knows how to pick a lock better than anyone he knows. Well, except for Zayn. Zayn would be the prime choice for a lock picker, but since Harry doesn't know Zayn it's got to be Niall.

“Paul is going to stay away for a few days as well,” he finishes. “Everything is fine, Harry. Everyone is okay.”

Harry visibly relaxes at that. He gives Louis a smile, then reaches over to grab his phone. He turns his attention to it. Louis takes that as his cue to retrieve his phone from the sofa so he can text Niall.

**

Things have been going extremely well since Harry's taken up residence here. Nothing of significance has happened. Harry's gone to work a couple of times, but he hasn't stayed long since he claims he can do most of his work from home – Louis never sees him do anything, but he's not complaining.

Niall stops by occasionally, under the guise of working, but the three of them usually end up drinking, doing nothing of importance, but it's fun. Certainly more fun than Louis's had in years.

There's also been a lot of sex, which he's not complaining about because it's damn good sex. And as much as it pains him to do it, he has to leave Harry for the first time since they've been here.

He hasn't checked in with the lads since before the New York trip. He's seen Niall, yeah, but it's always when Harry's around and they can't exactly talk shop with him in the room. And he's not comfortable enough to talk on the phone for fear of Harry overhearing, so he's decided to go meet up with them at Zayn's.

He told Harry that he was going out for a while, so he would have to find something to do until Louis got back and that he was not to leave the flat unless there was a fire, maybe not even then. He sounded a lot like Paul, a nicer version of Paul. Nonetheless, he was expecting Harry to nod and say “see you later”. It's not what he got.

Harry's been pouting, following Louis around the flat while he's collecting his things, asking him why he can't stay and why Harry can't accompany him. It's kind of annoying, but also kind of cute.

“Where are you going though?” he asks with sad, wide eyes as Louis's pulling on his coat.

“To meet with some people,” he answers, hoping Harry doesn't press it. 

He does.

“Some people?” 

“Yeah” he replies, patting his pockets for his keys and wallet. “Contacts.” 

Harry quirks an eyebrow. “Contacts?” 

“Yes.” 

“Who the hell are you?” 

It's then that Louis realizes he might have said the wrong thing. It sounds suspicious even to Louis. Harry's not going to let this go.

“I do this kind of thing for a living, Harry,” he replies, turning to him. “I have contacts. I'm trying to figure out who's trying to kill you and why,” he adds when Harry only stares at him.

It's not a complete lie, not that it would matter much to Harry if he found out about all of this. A lie is a lie is a lie and all that.

“Why can't I come if this is about me, then?” Harry counters with crossing his arms.

Louis sighs. “Sketchy places I'm going. Paul would kill me if he ever found out I let you venture into these places. Mind you, I wouldn't I didn't have to. I fear for me own life.”

That was also probably not the best thing to say because Harry's eyes widen and he's looking at Louis like he's trying to mentally will him not to go.

“I'll be fine, though,” he tacks on, doing nothing to relax Harry. “Seriously, I'll be fine.” Harry doesn't look like he believes him. “I'm taking Niall with me,” he tries. Harry does relax a little, but he's still tense. “He's the type you want on your side in a fight. He may not look it, but that Irish dickhead is scrappy.”

Harry snorts out a laugh then. “Fine, but if you're not back in a couple of hours I'm calling a search party.”

Louis wants to tell him to not waste resources that way, but he figures it won't go over well, so he keeps his mouth shut as he turns to the door.

“I'll be back,” he says.

“You better be,” Harry replies, looking much more at ease than he had a moment ago.

Louis's not at ease. He's leaving Harry alone in his flat and everything he just said to him was a lie, except the part about Niall. The important parts were a lie.

Harry seems oblivious to any wrong doing on Louis's part, but if the slightly suspicious look Louis caught from him on his way out the door is anything to go by, Harry might know more or at least suspects more than he let on. It's not something he's going to let himself dwell on, though.

**

He could tell as soon as he stepped through Zayn's door that things weren't okay. A total stranger coming in would probably think things were just dandy, but he's not a total stranger, so he can see anxiousness and tension in the air.

Niall's standing, straight as a board near the doorway on the opposite side of the room and Liam's sitting at the table, arms crossed against his chest. Across from him, Zayn is sitting, pen in hand, tapping it on an empty glass. He's watching Louis with narrowed eyes as he takes off his coat and comes closer to them.

“You lot look happy,” he comments, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Niall said you're sleeping with Styles,” Zayn says to him, turning his blood cold and freezing him in his tracks.

Niall said he wouldn't tell. He did said that, unless Louis had imaged the whole thing. Except, yes, Niall had definitely implied he wasn't going to mention it to Zayn. Something about plausible deniability when Zayn found out, that's what implied it. Also, Niall only knows about the one time. They haven't talked about it since then and as far as Louis knows Niall can't read minds or see the future.

Turning on his heel to face Niall, he growls, “Why the fuck would Niall say that?” 

Niall shrugs, only looking a bit worried for his safety. “It slipped.” 

“Are you?” Zayn asks, drawing Louis's attention back to him.

“Why's it matter as long as I do my job?” 

He can tell by the way Zayn's face goes dark that he shouldn't have responded that way, at least not as snippy.

“You aren't doing your job, though,” he spits, throwing the pen at him. Zayn's got terrible aim, so it goes sailing by Louis, his head turning to watch it hit the ground. He turns back to Zayn with a glare. Zayn's own glare has turned even darker.

“This is the kind of thing that got you in trouble in Sao Paulo,” Liam adds.

Louis wants to scream, tell him to fuck off about Sao Paulo, that Harry is different. But then he'd have to admit that this thing with Harry is something that he wants for a completely different reason. He'd be admitting that all of their thoughts on him fucking up again were right and that's not something he's prepared to do right now.

He's fucking fuming. Niall can't keep his mouth shut and now Louis has to pay for it.

“It's different with Harry,” he ends up saying, balling his fists up.

Zayn turns even narrower eyes on him. “Oh is it? How then?” 

“He's not going to find out.” 

“Oh yeah. How do you know that?” 

“And it was one time,” he lies.

He can see Niall's brow furrowing over Zayn's head, like he doesn't quite believe what Louis's saying. Niall can't know, is the thing. Louis's hasn't said anything else to him about it since the initial conversation. The only way he could know is if Harry had told.

_Fuck._

It's in this moment that he realizes there's a strong possibility that Harry has told Niall. Harry thinks they're friends. He probably assumes Louis's mentioned it Niall, so he'd think it was okay to mention it as well. They need to have a talk when Louis gets home.

“Just the one time?”

Louis turns his attention back to Zayn. “Yes, the one time. He wasn't too keen on repeating it, either, so you don't have to worry about it happening again.”

Zayn narrows his eyes. “Is this why the job is taking so long?”

“Oh fuck this!” Louis exclaims, throwing his arms out. “It wouldn't be taking so long if I had help!”

“You wouldn't normally need help!” Zayn yells back, standing abruptly, his chair falling to the floor. “I picked you for this for a reason, Louis! Don't make me regret it!”

“Do you know how fucking hard it is-.”

Louis's cut off by Liam putting a hand over his mouth. He wasn't aware of Liam having gotten up, but here he is, standing there between them with a hand over Louis's mouth. Zayn opens his mouth, but Liam uses his free hand to cover it. 

“Stop yelling,” he says calmly, glancing between them. “It's not going to help. So just stop.”

They're glaring at each other from over Liam's hands, but there's an understanding there that Liam is right, so they both nod slightly and Liam drops his hands.

“Now, while I think you both have reason to be upset here-.”

“Oi! He does not!” Louis exclaims at the same time Zayn says, “He's got no bloody reason to be.”

“Excuse you,” Louis says, turning his full attention to Zayn. “All you do is sit around this flat ordering the rest of us around. You don't have a right to-.”

“If you'd just do your fucking job I wouldn't have to keep bugging you about it,” Zayn spits at him, throwing his arms out again. “You're being fucking stupid ri-.”

Zayn's cut off by Liam's hand covering his mouth again. Louis lets out a dry laugh, causing Liam to roll his eyes, placing his other hand over Louis's mouth.

“I just meant,” he begins, giving them both pointed looks before lowering his hands. “That the job is taking a long time, so yes, Louis.” He turn his head to look at him. “Zayn does have a right to be upset over that. And he does have a right to be worried about whatever it is you've got going on with Styles.”

Louis crosses his arms over his chest, pursing his lips together. He knows that objectively, _he does_ ,but Zayn's being a right prick about it.

“Now Zayn,” Liam continues, turning his head to face Zayn, who's got his own arms crossed. “It's very clear that Styles has the collection stashed away. I can't find it. Niall can't find it. Sure, Lou's got a better chance, but you're the one that set him up as the bodyguard, which means he has an _actual_ job to do that takes time away from what _you_ want him to do.”

Zayn snorts, turning his head to the side to avoid looking at Liam.

“Not to mention, that Louis's right when he says that you've not been contributing much to the job.”

Pleasure blooms in Louis's chest at Liam calling Zayn out, but it quickly dissipates when Zayn's head whips around. His eyes are narrowed with rage and he drops his arms to his sides.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he yells at Liam. “I put this job together. I planned it. I did the research. I did all the work you three hate doing. I did the hard shit.” Zayn turns his attention to Louis. “You had the easy job,” he grits out, pointing a finger at him. “Get close to him. That's all you had to do. Get close to him and get him to spill. That's the easiest fucking part.”

“Zayn,” Liam warns, shuffling his feet so he's standing between him and Louis. “You need to calm down.”

“Calm down!?” Zayn shouts, taking a quick step at Liam. “Don't tell me t-.” He cuts himself off, blinking rapidly for a second. “Okay,” he mutters. He takes a couple of steps backward, bringing a hand up to rub at his forehead. “Okay,” he says again, dropping his hand. When he looks up, he's marginally calmer. “I'm going to take a walk. Cool off a bit. Yeah...” he trails off nodding.

For a minute Louis thinks Liam's going to stop him, but Zayn's turning toward the door, now shaking his head, mumbling under his breath things they can't hear. 

When he's out of the flat, Liam sighs, shoulder's slumping forward. “That could have gone better,” he says, moving to right Zayn's chair.

Louis holds in his laugh. 

It could have gone a hell of a lot better. There's a part him, the more rational part of his brain, that understands why Zayn's frustrated, but he was attacking Louis and Louis does not take well to being attacked. Still, he probably should not have retaliated. 

“Think I'm going to go after him,” Liam says, grabbing his jacket from where it draped across the back of his chair. “Lord knows where he might end up on this walk.” 

On his way to the door, he stops in front of Louis. His face is a mixture of pity and worry and something else Louis can't quite make out. “Zayn has a right to be worried, Tommo,” he says. “Please don't mess this up.”

Liam doesn't give Louis enough time to respond before he's slipping out of Zayn's flat.

Louis stands there, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. He's trying to will himself to calm down before he goes back home to Harry. Harry'd know something was wrong if Louis walks in like he is now – breathing heavy, eyes narrowed.

Someone clearing their throat behind him gets his attention. When he turns, Niall's still standing in the door, eyes apologetic. He'd forgotten Niall was even here.

“Sorry I said anything,” Niall says cautiously. “It just sort of slipped.”

“You little Irish bastard,” Louis growls, walking right up to Niall. “Don't know how to keep your mouth shut, do you? You just never stop talking. Nothing is a secret to you, is it?”

“You're being a bit unfair, Lou,” Niall replies, taking a step back when Louis's glare darkens. “And for what it's worth, I don't believe that bit, you know. Where you said it only happened once. I don't believe that for a second.”

“What's it matter to you?” Louis snarls. “It doesn't affect you at all.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “Anything to do with this job affects me, Louis. Stop thinking Zayn's the only one you have to worry about.”

Louis opens his mouth to reply, but quickly snaps it shut. Niall has a point. Zayn's not the only one that's affected by this job. If Louis fucks up he's all of them over.

He feels his features soften. “You still didn't have to say anything.”

“Maybe not,” Niall shrugs. “But I do have a reason to be worried. Just like Zayn. Just like Liam. And we're worried about how this is affecting you.”

“I'm fine,” Louis lies.

Niall shakes his head. “No you're not. You're far from fine, but you don't want to talk and I'm not going to force you. Zayn will calm down. And he'll apologize.”

Louis takes a deep breath, not knowing how to respond. Everything Niall is saying makes sense. He – they – have a right to be worried. It doesn't mean Louis likes it, though.

“I'm gonna go home,” Niall says. 

As he passes Louis, he pats him on the shoulder.

Louis stands there another minute, trying to will himself enough courage to go home and deal with Harry because if one thing is clear after tonight, it's that he needs to finish this job quickly before Zayn's frustration causes him to snap and kill Louis.

**

When he walks in his flat, Harry's not waiting on him, which isn't a _problem_ exactly, it's a bit weird, because Harry was so insistent that Louis not leave in the first place. As it is, the flat is completely quiet and dark, the only light coming from down the hall where Louis's bedroom is.

“Harry,” Louis calls, shrugging out of his coat. He hangs the coat on the rack, toeing off his shoes. When there's no answer he calls again, “Harry?”

When he still doesn't get an answer, panic starts building slowly in his gut. 

What if they found out this is where Harry was staying? What if they've killed him and Louis walks in on Harry's limp body bleeding out all over his bedroom floor? What if they've taken him?

Or you're just being paranoid, Louis reminds himself.

He starts down the hall, slowly, resiting the urge to go back to his coat to get his gun because if there isn't a problem and Harry's perfectly fine, how's Louis explain that?

When he reaches the door, he takes a deep breath. It's cracked open, so he slowly pushes it the rest of the way, letting out a long breath at what he sees. 

Harry is here. He's sitting on the bed, his back to Louis, and head bent over.

“Jesus, Haz,” Louis lets out. “Didn't you hear me calling?” Louis starts walking to the other side of the bed. “I was starting to think something had happened. You can't-.”

He cuts himself off, pausing at the foot of the bed. Harry hasn't looked up, still bent over looking at whatever is in his hands. He hasn't even acknowledged Louis being in the room

Something is wrong.

“Harry,” he drawls out, “what is it?” 

“Who are you?” Harry asks meekly, still not looking up.

“What?”

Ever so slowly Harry stands, dropping whatever was in his hands to the floor. Louis tracks the motion with his eyes and – shit.

The box. Harry found the box. Louis's box where he keeps all his I.D.'s and passports and whatever else he might need.

He's not sure how long he's standing there, frozen, eyes locked on that damn black box. He'd forgotten about it completely, had it hidden under his bed and now Harry's found it. Harry's found it and everything is ruined. 

“Shit,” he breathes out.

“Who the hell are you?” Harry questions, getting Louis's attention. His eyes are wide, filled with panic and betrayal, and he looks like he's about to run the second Louis says something that's not okay. “What is all this?”

“Harry,” he says, taking a slow step forward with his hand out. Harry takes an abrupt step back, kicking the box. Louis stops, drops his hands. He cant scare Harry anymore than he already is. “There's an explanation.” 

Is there? 

There isn't.

Harry's forehead wrinkles as he shoots Louis an incredulous look. “How?” His voice is full of panic, making Louis's blood run cold. “There's at least a dozen passports with different names on them, all with pictures of you. I don't understand.” 

Harry's starting to really panic. His hands are shaking and his eyes aren't resting on anything for more than a second and he's speaking fast, words blurring together. If Louis says the wrong thing Harry's going to bolt and that's not good for either of them.

Louis said there's an explanation. There is one – the truth – but that's definitely not an option. A lie would be a better choice, but he's not sure there's a lie that's an appropriate explanation for this situation.

Harry's panicking, though. Louis has to do something.

“Louis Tomlinson.” It's probably the biggest mistake of his life, but it has Harry resting his eyes on him. “That's my real name. I was born in Doncaster on Christmas Eve. I ha-.”

“I don't care,” Harry says, shaking his head. “I don't care about that.”

“Yes you do,” Louis says quietly. “You do care about it because that's the truth.”

Harry's mouth pops open. “I'm supposed to believe that? Are you fucking kidding me? You lied to me about who you are and you expect me to believe this? How much else of what you said has been a lie? Huh? And that still doesn't explain all this.” He points down to the box. “I don't really trust you right now.”

“How'd you even find it?” Louis asks, eyes back on the box.

“I dropped my phone, but that's hardly t-.”

“It's rude to look through other people's stuff, you know.” When he looks back up, Harry's regarding him with a confused look. “Look, what do you want me to say?” he asks, throwing out his arms. “I have a dozen passports and I.D.'s all with different names. You know me as Louis Winchester, but I'm actually Louis Tomlinson. I'm a bodyguard for a living, Harry. People start to recognize names.”

He's talking out his arse, has no clue if what's saying, if what he's planning on saying makes sense, but Harry looks a fraction calmer and like he's willing to listen, so Louis continues.

“In some cases, clients don't want the possibility of the name of their bodyguard being recognized. If the job is serious enough, like this one, if the bad guy notices someone new hanging around the target they're going to look into it. And if they recognize the name as someone who is a bodyguard or they look the name up they can find out easily. They won't hesitate to take the bodyguard out.”

He takes a deep breath, noting the way Harry's slowly sitting on the edge of the bed, body facing him. Louis follows, making sure to keep a comfortable distance between them.

“I didn't want to lie about it, but I had to. Didn't want the chance of someone finding out who I really was,” he finishes.

“Why lie to me about it?”

Good question.

“Couldn't take the chance of you spouting your mouth off about it.”

Harry gives him an affronted look. “If you told me your reasoning I wouldn't have told anyone your real name.”

“It could slip.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Is this part of why you lied about Niall?”

It takes Louis a moment to know what Harry's talking about, has to stop himself from Ah-ing out loud. “Uh, yes. That is part of it.” Harry doesn't look happy, calmer, but not happy. “Look, I'm sorry I lied about it, but being a bodyguard means you have to be prepared for things, which is another reason I've got all these. What if I needed to get you out of the country, huh? And couldn't use my real identity?”

“Wouldn't it need to be my identity needing protecting?”

Good point.

“Well, yeah, but there are ways to deal with that quickly.”

The tension in Harry's shoulders is almost gone now, his eyes are still judging, questioning, but Louis's getting somewhere. He feels incredibly guilty for this, but Zayn would be proud of the way he's dealing with this. If he could get past the fact that Louis's fucked up again.

“I like Tomlinson better,” Harry says, startling Louis.

He blinks slowly. “What?”

“Louis Tomlinson,” Harry replies. “I like that better than Louis Winchester. Just sounds better.”

“Me too,” Louis smiles, thinking the situation is resolved. It's a brief moment of thinking that because Harry's not finished.

“I don't like be lied to, Louis,” he says, looking down at where he's picking at his finger in his lap. “You can't lie to me anymore.” Harry looks up, wide, green eyes staring right through Louis. “If there's anything else, anything at all, now's the time to tell me.”

This is it. This is his out. If he was ever going to tell Harry the truth about everything, now's the time to do it. He'd be caught in about a dozen lies, but he somehow thinks Harry would forgive eventually, which might be naive to think, but Harry's forgiven him every time thus far.

But now's the time – the time to come clean and put an end to this job. Everything would be so much better if he told the truth. He could stop feeling guilty about lying to Harry. He could stop feeling guilty about taking so long to do his job.

Except, he can't tell the truth because it's Zayn's job not his and as much as it's killing him to lie to Harry every moment of every day, he can't do it. He can't tell the truth.

Staring at the wall over Harry's shoulder, biting at his bottom lip, he spares a second to feel sorry for himself, to mourn whatever outcome this would have if he told the truth. He spares a second to feel bad for what he's doing for Harry.

“Louis?”

He takes a deep breath, turning his attention back to the incredibly loving, caring, kind, attractive man in front of him. 

“There's nothing else, Harry. I promise. I'm not keeping anything else from you.”

It hurts his heart only a little.

Harry doesn't look like he believes him completely, but after a second he's smiling at the mattress. He lets out a chuckle before looking back up.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I freaked out. I was freaking out for no reason. I'm sorry.”

Louis's shaking his head before Harry's finished. “No, no. You had every right to be concerned. I would've reacted the same.”

Harry searches his face. Louis's not sure what he was looking for, but he seems to have found it because his smile grows. “I doubted you, though. I apologize for that.”

“Not a big deal,” he shrugs. “Everyone deserves to be doubted sometimes. Otherwise we'd all have big heads.”

It wasn't meant to sound as self-deprecating as it did and Harry's smile fades into something softer as he says, “You've kept me alive, haven't you? That's all that really matters.”

He considers telling Harry the truth to see if he'd say the same then. He guesses he probably wouldn't. 

“I'm sorry I lied to you,” he says, noticing how they've gotten closer. “I never really wanted to, but sometimes it's safer for us.”

Harry nods. “I get that, just don't do it again, yeah?”

Harry leans forward. He wraps a hand around the back of Louis's neck, resting his forehead on Louis's. He's so close Louis can see the flecks of gold in his eyes and smell Louis's shampoo that he's been using. 

“Harry.”

It shouldn't be as surprising as it is when Harry connects their lips, pushing Louis down on the bed. He breaks the kiss long enough to straddle Louis.

Louis's hands immediately find their way to Harry's hair. Harry's hand has slide to cup his jaw, deepening the kiss, his other hand, gripping just above Louis's waistband. He nips lightly at Harry's bottom lip, drawing a moan out of him. Harry starts rocking his hips slowly, his bum rubbing over Louis's hardening dick.

He has to pull back, gasping for breath as Harry sneaks a hand under his t-shirt. He starts kissing up his jawline. Louis tilts his head to the side to give Harry better access, his hands roaming up and down Harry's back.

Harry reaches Louis's earlobe, sucking on it. Louis moans, arching off the bed. 

“Harry. Harry, please.”

Harry bites his earlobe before pulling back, dilated eyes staring down at Louis. “So beautiful like this,” he says, voice gruff.

He lets go of Louis to pull off his t-shirt. Once he's got it off and tossed it to the side, Louis pushes himself up, grabbing at Harry's neck to pull him back down in a kiss. Harry gasps into it, allowing Louis to slip his tongue in as they fall back onto the mattress.

Harry's holding himself up with his hand placed next to Louis's head, grinding down. Louis lets his hands trail down Harry's back until they're settled against Harry's arse. He squeezes, begging Harry to grind down harder, faster, anything that would relieve some of the pressure that's built in his cock.

When they have to break the kiss to breath, Harry asks, “What do you want?”

He pinches Louis's nipple through the fabric separating covering them. “Fuck,” Louis moans. “God, Harry, fuck me.”

Harry sits up, smiling down at him. “Shouldn't be a problem.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don't.”

“If you fuck me I won't.”

Harry laughs, climbing off of Louis to go to the end table where Louis keeps his lube and condoms. Louis takes advantage of Harry not sitting on his to pull his shirt off and move to the top of the bed.

Harry tosses the lube and condom next to Louis on the bed, this pulls of his jeans, revealing his dick already leaking.

“You weren't wearing pants?”

Harry shrugs as he climbs back on the bed. “Couldn't find any this morning.”

That's a lie, but Louis can't call him out on it because in one swift motion Harry's pushed himself between Louis's legs and is unbuttoning his jeans, while palming him with his free hand.

He taps Louis on the side, waits for Louis to lift his hips to pull down his jeans. He doesn't waste time pulling off Louis's pants, either, letting them fall down to the floor.

He waits for Harry to do something, but he stares down at Louis, face full of awe.

“What is your problem?”

“You've got a nice dick, is all.”

“So do you, so if you could fuck me now.”

A smile spreads across Harry's face quickly, then he leans over Louis, presses a quick kiss to his mouth, then starts trailing them down Louis's body.

When he reaches Louis's navel, he stops, looking up at Louis through his eyelashes. “You want it like this?”

Louis nods. “Want to watch.”

Harry groans, going back to peppering Louis's body with kisses. “You're so.” Kiss. “Fucking.” Kiss. “Gorgeous.” 

“And I'll still be gorgeous after you fuck me, so please get on with it.”

Harry sits up, cocking an eyebrow. “Be patient.”

“Please.”

Harry smirks, grabbing the lube. “That's better,” he says, uncapping the lube, squeezing onto his fingers. “Gonna open you up nice and slow,” he says, letting the lube fall back to the mattress. “Have you begging for my cock.”

“Don't beg.” It ends in a gasp because Harry presses his finger to Louis's hole, sliding it in slowly. “And maybe I don't want it nice and slow.”

“What do you want, babe?” Harry questions, slowly pumping his finger.

Louis drops his head back, resisting the urge to fuck himself on Harry's finger. “I just want you to fuck me.”

His “so I forget about the lying” goes unsaid since he's sure it would ruin the mood.

“I think I can do that.”

Then he's ducking down, mouthing at Louis's balls as he fucks Louis with his finger. His position has got to hurt his back and if Louis wasn't trying so hard to stay still he'd do something about it.

Louis gasps, hips bucking up when he feels the wetness of Harry's tongue when he adds it next to his finger. 

He pulls back after a minute. “You ready for another?”

“What the fuck do you think?”

Harry rolls his eyes. He grabs Louis's calf, pulling it up so it's resting on his shoulder, then adds a second finger. He's slow at first, occasionally presses kisses to the inside of Louis's thigh. When he starts scissoring Louis open, he's sucking a bruise into Louis's thigh.

He's having a hard time not touching himself, relieving some pressure, so he's got his fists balled into the sheets. They should probably wash them at some point, he thinks. He starts to add more to that, but cuts himself off when Harry adds a third finger. 

“You think you're ready?” Harry asks after some time.

“Harry,” he growls. “Just fuck me already.”

Harry rolls his eyes again, leaning over to grab the condom, Louis's leg falls off Harry's shoulder. Harry rips open the condom package and puts it on quickly. He adds a bit of lube to his dick, then lines himself up with Louis's hole – the head poking at the rim, making Louis shudder.

Harry grabs at Louis's hips, lifting him of the bed. Louis wraps his legs around Harry's waist as he pushes in the first time. He stops about halfway in, slowly pulls out so the head of his dick is the only bit in Louis.

“So fucking beautiful,” he groans as he pushes back in. “Feel so good.”

He starts thrusting, it takes him a couple of times, but he finds Louis's prostate. Louis whimpers, goes to grab his dick, but Harry swats his hand away.

“No,” he says. “Gonna come untouched.”

Louis moans, letting his hand grip the sheet tightly again as Harry continues thrusting.

Harry's letting out these goddamn moans as his hips slap against Louis's skin. He slows his thrusts after a while, leaning forward, he rests a hand next to Louis head.

Louis wraps a hand around Harry's neck, pulling him in for a kiss. It's open mouthed and obscene, but Harry's picking up the pace of his thrusts again. It's faster than earlier and he's going deeper, hitting Louis's prostate every time, leaving Louis to whimper into Harry's mouth.

Harry's using his free hand to roam over Louis's body, slow and gentle, unlike the way he's fucking into Louis. Louis's so so close with Harry whispering Louis's name over an over again into the skin of his neck. 

They've done this before, quite a few times, but Louis's sure it's never been like this before and he doesn't really know what's different, except something _is_ different. He can't tell what and it's hard to focus on it when all he can hear is both of their breathy moans, his name falling from Harry's lips and the sound of skin hitting skin.

His orgasm hits him rather surprisingly as Harry's thrusting has become erratic, hitting his prostate repeatedly. That white hot sensation and his body clenching around Harry. He's comes between their bodies, white and hot, and a shout of Harry's name.

Harry gets one last hard thrust in before he's moaning his own orgasm into Louis's skin. He stills for a second, breathing heavily before he lets himself collapse onto Louis, Louis's cum being squished between them.

Harry's heavy on top of him, both shuddering and gasping, Harry's breath warm on Harry's jaw.

He doesn't know how long they're lying like that, coming down and gaining their breath, before Harry pulls out slowly.

“Fuck,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to the underside of Louis's jaw as Louis says, “That was good, darling.”

Harry smirks at him and presses another kiss to Louis's sweaty skin. He watches as Harry sits up, taking the condom off and tying it off. He makes a sound of protest, reaching out blindly when Harry starts to get up.

“Gotta clean us up, love,” he says, walking into Louis's en suite.

When he comes back, he's got a flannel and has already wiped himself clean. 

“Clean me, then,” Louis demands, kicking a leg out at Harry as he climbs back on the bed.

“No.”

But he does it anyway, throwing the flannel to the floor when he's finished. He shuffles around, slotting himself against Louis's side and pulling the duvet over them.

“This thing is filthy,” he comments, resting his head on Louis's shoulder.

“It's your fault,” Louis replies, wrapping his arm around Harry. “Thought you were going to open me nice and slow until I was begging and crying and shit.”

Harry smiles up at him. “Yeah, well, another time, Louis Tomlinson.”

For half a second Louis starts to panic that Harry knows his real name, but then he remembers – remembers what lead to this, to them being in bed together. It calms him, the panic gone, but it's quickly replaced by guilt. It's only made worse when Harry raises up to press a kiss to Louis's cheek before snuggling back into Louis's side, letting his eyes close.

Louis watches him, an overwhelming amount of guilt settling in his stomach. 

He should have told him the truth while he had the chance. Harry's found out his real name and there's no way of knowing if Harry will decide to search him on the internet and what he'll find if he does. Louis's made so many mistakes with Harry, so many detrimental mistakes, but letting Harry find out his real name has got be the worst one.

He's definitely not telling Zayn this one, he thinks. Zayn's already on edge, he doesn't need to know this either, which is just another thing adding guilt. Not that guilt for lying to Zayn is more important than the guilt of lying to Harry. That's worse, lying to Harry. He's such an amazingly all around beautiful person and Louis's taking advantage of his trust and kindness and he's lied to Harry's face so many times.

There's not a world in any universe where Harry deserves being lied to. The opportunity to tell Harry the truth and maybe salvage whatever relationship they have after that is gone now. Had he been honest with Harry earlier he might have still had a chance to make it up to him, get Harry to forgive him, take him back, whatever. Now, his chance of anything after this job is over. 

He sighs, squeezing Harry's bicep a bit. Harry's asleep already, breathing slow and peaceful with no idea of the panic and guilt Louis's feeling. He has no idea that the man he just fucked is fucking him over, lying to his face about everything.

Louis's fucking miserable and he's getting the best sex of his life from Harry and isn't that just poetic or whatever. He can't even enjoy the after sex feeling because of this.

He ignores the part of his brain telling him it's not just the sex, that it's more, and lets his head rest on Harry's. He's not going to sleep very well tonight.

**

Now that they're back at Harry's, Louis had to admit to himself that the job is taking too long and he does need to step it up. He feels incredibly guilty for what he's doing with Harry, but he has to keep reminding himself that it's a job – Zayn's job – and he has to do it. Preferably sooner rather than later before things get even more complicated with Harry.

He'd been able to sneak back into Harry's office, but he hadn't found anything that suggested where the art collection might be at. He'd even broken back into the safe, but there was nothing. He'd had a moment of utter frustration, had almost cried, but he'd talked himself down.

He's out of other options now, the only one left is to ask Harry, which he can't come right out and do because Harry would most definitely be suspicious of him. He'd thought he'd done a good job of casually asking Harry about why he had taken the Gauguin out of the gallery. 

Harry's answer had been that he didn't think it went with the other paintings there. He'd also side-eyed the fuck out of Louis, but Louis had distracted him from it with a blowjob, so he'd lived to lie another day.

He's got another idea of how to bring it up. Harry's been lounging around in the conservatory all day with his laptop. Louis'd gone in about two hours ago. They haven't spoken much, almost not at all, but it's given Louis a lot of time to think about how to approach this.

“Hey,” he says, nudging Harry's thigh with his feet. “I want to ask you something.”

Harry looks over at him, hair falling in his face. “Do I need to put the laptop away?” When Louis shrugs, Harry rolls his eyes, shutting the laptop and setting it on the floor by his feet. “What's up?”

“It's nothing important,” he replies, shrugging again. “I was just curious why you have such a big art collection. I mean, you don't do anything with most of it. I've got a mate who's real into art and he doesn't pass off a chance to show it off to people.”

That was probably something he shouldn't have said because now he's thinking about how in a different life Harry and Zayn would probably be very good friends. They both like art, though Zayn's love for it might be more than Harry's. There's the reading thing that Louis doesn't understand, they both like the same shit television, and they...he needs to stop thinking about this before he does something stupid like try to introduce them for real.

Harry's quiet, eyes considering as he turns his body more toward Louis. “Most of it was my dad's,” he says after a while. “He was big into it. Never passed up an opportunity to buy something. He tried to get me interested in it as a child, but I wanted nothing of it. The older I got the more of an appreciation I developed for it. Dad still tried to get me into it like he was, but it wasn't going to happen.”

“You still have it, though,” he prompts. “Like you still get more.”

Harry hums. “I do, but I think it's mostly because of dad, you know. Like, I didn't want to get rid of the stuff he had because he was so proud of it. And I only went out of my way to get the Gauguin because it was something he mentioned wanting a lot. He probably mentioned it close to a hundred times.”

“So, it's like you're carrying on his thing?”

When Harry nods, Louis's stomach drops. Taking this stuff, this stuff that meant so much to Harry's father therefore mean so much to Harry, isn't something Louis's too terribly fond of doing at this point. 

He pushes the thought away because he feels like he's about to get somewhere with this and won't Zayn be fucking thrilled.

“I just-,” he continues, cutting himself off to shit around again, bringing Louis's feet t rest in his lap. “I didn't have the heart to get rid of any of it or stop collecting, but at the same time it hurt too much to see all of it because it was a constant reminder of him. Over the last few years I've kind of gotten over it, but there's still so much of it that I don't know what to do with it. I don't have enough room in this house for it all. I don't want all of it. It's why I've got it all in a warehouse.”

He says it so casually, like it's not a big deal, but it's _a huge fucking deal_. Louis almost leaps for joy before reminding himself that doing that would probably look even more suspicious.

He needs to let the others know – needs to let Zayn know – but he can't just get up and leave in the middle of a conversation.

“You know, I've talked more about my dad to you than I have anyone else.”

And that's like a bucket of cold water being dumped on him.

“I'm just a good listener,” he lies. “Make people feel comfortable.”

Harry nods, eyes earnest. “You do. Make feel comfortable, that is. I think you're a crap listener, though.”

“Hey. I'm the best listener in the world, I'll have you know.”

“Let's just agree to disagree on that.”

Louis presses the heels of his feet into Harry's thigh. “Fine, but I've got another question. Why not donate the art? Like it'd still be technically yours, but people would actually see it instead of it sitting in a warehouse collecting dust.”

He's mildly curious, personally, but he also knows this would be the perfect opportunity to bring Zayn back in as Mr. Hanif so he can see how much they're actually dealing with. Sometimes Louis is a genius.

“Oh,” Harry says, face lighting up. “Like that curator said. What was his name?”

“Mr. Hanif.”

“Yes, him. He _did_ suggest that. Haven't given it much thought.”

Louis lets out a long breath, burrowing further into the chaise. “You could always have him come an take a look at it. Let him appraise it, see what you could do with it or whatever,” he suggests. “You don't have to do what he says. You can say no,” he adds when he sees the hesitant look Harry's giving him.

“You think he would?”

Louis shrugs. “Worth a shot. I could get in touch with him if you want me to.”

Harry's quiet, rubbing his hand up and down Louis's leg, which has Louis thinking that Harry's going to say no. “I think you should,” he says after a while. 

He nods, saying, “I'll need an address to give him.”

“Here.” 

Harry grabs his phone, typing something out. As he sets it back down, Louis's phone lights up with a text from Harry. It's the address to the warehouse.

“Whenever he's got time is good,” Harry says.

Louis nods, biting his bottom lip. He copies the address and sends it in a group chat to the lads. He shuts his phone off immediately and turns his attention back to Harry, feeling incredibly guilty.

“I get it sorted, don't worry.”

“I've got faith in you,” Harry says, smiling. Then he leans over, grabbing his laptop. “I've got to get back to work,” he says, but you can stay.”

“It's not like I have anything else to be doing,” he says as Harry sets the laptop across Louis's legs.

It's another three hours before he can work up the courage to tell Harry that he needs to go out for a few.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lads make their move and Louis is fucked in a bad way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the art in this chapter is real, but unlike this story most of the pieces are part of collections at museums. Please don't steal them. That's not very nice.  
> Um, also Louis may have what some would consider suicidal thoughts from here through the rest of the fic. I don't know if you could really consider them suicidal thoughts, but I'm not a professional and can't really judge that, so be warned.  
> Again, thank you for reading and Enjoy!

When he'd finally turned his phone on he was surprised to see only four texts. The first was from Zayn saying, **that better b an address for the art.**

Liam's had simply said, **going to check it out now.**

Niall's had been slightly confusing. **whoops** , was all he had said, quickly followed by, **seen that written down in his office b4 sorry.**

Louis hit his head against his steering wheel at that, then sent a text saying he was on his way to Zayn's.

As soon as he'd walked up to Zayn's door, it had flown open, Zayn motioning him in quickly. He's been standing just inside the door to Zayn's flat for several moments, all of them staring at him. Zayn looks a minute away from crying happy tears, Niall looks embarrassed and apologetic, and Liam looks unimpressed.

“Is somebody going to say something?” he asks, moving further into the flat. He settles himself on Zayn's coffee table. “Yes, I got the address. I know where the shit is at now. Am I going to get congratulated?”

Zayn's face transforms into something very similar to Liam's. “Yes, thank you Louis for taking ages to do your job.”

“You know where it's at now, don't you?” Zayn snorts, crossing his arms. “By the way, I've gotten Harry to agree to meet with Mr. Hanif.”

Zayn's eyebrows knit together. “Why?” he asks cautiously.

“Well, I figured you'd want to know how much shit we were dealing with so we can figure out how to grab it and what we want to grab. I've kind of put the idea in his head that he might want to donate it.”

Zayn blinks quickly. “Wow. That's actually a good idea, but if you think that's getting you off the hook for taking so long, you're wrong.”

“I don't,” he shrugs. “Just figured you'd want to check it out first.”

“I do.”

Zayn walks across the room and sits next to Louis on the table as Liam takes his place in the center of the room. 

“I checked the place out,” he says. “We need a pass code to get in.”

“Can't you like, hack the system or something?” Niall questions, sitting on Louis's other side.

“I could, but it's a pretty solid system. It's going to take a while.”

Zayn tilts his head toward Louis. “When's he want to meet with Mr. Hanif?”

“He said whenever you've got time.”

“Make it as soon as possible.”

Louis nods. Rubbing his hands up and down his thighs, he looks up at Liam. “How long do you think it will take?”

Liam shrugs. “For an amateur, too god damn long. But...” he trails off, eyes narrowing and calculating. “For me, a couple days. Possibly less. Like I said, it's a solid system. But I can do it.”

“It's not one of those things where the code changes every day or summat, is it?”

Zayn leans around Louis to stare at Niall blankly. “What?”

“Well, you know,” Niall shrugs. “There are some systems out there that are programmed to change the pass code every so often. I'm just wondering how that'll affect us.”

“It won't,” Liam says with an air of finality.

“Alright.” Zayn stands, clapping his hands together once. He motions for Liam to take his place beside Louis. When Liam's seated, looking slightly uneasy, Zayn turns to them. “Here's what we're gonna do. Louis.” Zayn points to him. “Set up a meeting for tomorrow. We'll go in and I'll do my thing. Not a problem. Liam.” Zayn turns his attention to him. “Get the code. That's all I want you to focus on right now. Don't even sleep.”

Liam groans. They all know that Zayn doesn't actually mean it, but it's his way of saying “Make this happen as fast as humanly possible or else”. It's kind of Louis's fault, Zayn's wanting to finish this as quickly as they can. He can't bring himself to care, though, as the guilt is still kicking up a fuss in his stomach.

“Niall,” Zayn continues. “Once I get done with Styles you and I are going to have a chat. We're going to figure out how to get everything out as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

“Not a problem, sir,” Niall grins as he brings out his phone. 

“What about me?”

Zayn focuses on Louis. “Until we get ready to act, keep doing what you've been doing. Don't give Styles a reason to think things are weird. But be ready to meet us at any time.”

“During the night, I assume.”

“Well, I'm not going to do it in broad fucking daylight.” Zayn sounds more annoyed than he is. His smile is easy, eyes bright in a way Louis hasn't seen since Zayn first told them about this job.

Louis holds his hands up. “I was only askin'. Calm down. Jesus.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, smile never disappearing. “Liam, let us know as soon as you get the code.”

“I guess I should get to work on it then.” Liam stands, grabbing his jacket off the armchair. “See ya lads later.”

“I should go too.” He stands, smoothing out his jeans. “Told Harry I was just going out for a walk.”

Zayn quirks an eyebrow. “Long walk.”

Louis shrugs. “He was busy. Doubt he'll notice.”

He starts making his way to the door, but a hand on his shoulder stops him. When he turns around, Zayn's there with an odd sincere glint to his eyes.

“I just wanted to say, thanks.” Louis raises an eyebrow. “I just meant, thank you. For you know this.” He waves a hand around. “You didn't have to do it and I know I was being a bit of a prick for a while, but thank you.”

He's right. Louis didn't have to do this and he was definitely acting like a prick, but he doesn't have it in him to accept the apology. The job could have been done quicker and he's certainly fucked up a couple of times, which isn't really the part that's bothering him. 

What's bothering him is, the part that's eating at him slowly from the inside, is Harry. He's lied to Harry countless times, having been caught a few of those times and Harry still trusts him – whether it's because he's saved Harry's life twice or not, it doesn't matter – and he's about to steal from him.

In a couple of days, Louis will unceremoniously walk out of Harry's life forever and Harry won't have a clue as to why. Unless he puts it together all together. He's a smart lad, he probably will. But, like, Louis's not going to have Harry in his life any more, not that he deserves Harry in any way, but it still hurts.

It hurts and no matter what he does he can't get it to stop. No amount of reminding himself that this is a job, that he's going to get a huge fucking payoff for this, can stop him from hurting. He's losing Harry. He's losing Harry and that's all he can really focus on.

There's the guilt, too, but nothing he can do will stop that. Even if he puts an end to this right now and tells Harry everything, he'll still feel guilty for the lying and the planning and everything about this. He's going to be feeling guilty about this for the rest of his life. The thought fucking kills him, almost as much as the thought of losing Harry for good.

He can't do anything about it, though.

Instead of answering Zayn, he nods his head and pats him on the shoulder, hoping it conveys whatever it is he's looking for. It probably doesn't, but then again, he also doesn't care.

**

It's an odd sort of place. Definitely not one he'd expect Harry to use to store his art, but maybe that was the point.

Each individual building is a different shape and size. None of them look particularly like a warehouse to Louis. Though, to be fair, Louis hasn't been to very many warehouse complexes in his life. The one's he has been to have been smaller, all identical, and usually occupied with drug lords and criminals. There's a part him that's somewhat surprised that Harry's rented out one of them, but again, maybe that was the point. Confuse people and all, it works sometimes.

They'd had to leave the car at the gate. Something about, security reasons or whatever. He'd wondered briefly how people got things to and from the warehouses without vehicles to transport them, but Harry had put a hand on his back, guiding him, and all his thoughts on the matter vanished.

The walk to the building Harry rents is peaceful. At least until Louis spots Zayn leaning against the building with crossed arms. Spotting Zayn makes him hyper aware of the fact that Harry is still touching him and – probably most importantly – that this is a job. The end almost. 

It makes his blood run cold and his body stiffen. Harry glances at him with a worried frown. Louis smiles up at him, then pulls himself away to greet Zayn.

“Ah, Mr. Hanif,” he says, holding out his hand. “Nice to see you again.”

Zayn takes his hand. “Same to you. I must say,” he says, turning his attention to Harry. Shaking his hand, he continues, “I was a little surprised to hear from you. I had gotten the impression that you wanted to keep all this for yourself.”

“I'm still not sure what I'm doing with it,” Harry replies, sincerely. “Just kind of want to check my options for now.”

Zayn gives a small nod. “Understandable. And, again, I must say I thank you for allowing me to be the one to do this.”

Harry goes to the door and presses a couple buttons on the keypad. There's a beep and a click of the lock. Harry grabs the handle and smiles at Zayn.

“It's not a problem.” 

Then he's opening the door and walking through. Now, Louis is not a person that is into art of any kind, but as Harry flicks on the light Louis can't deny that this is certainly an impressive collection. There are paintings in protective coverings leaning against the walls and on stands. There are several tables covered in vases and things Louis doesn't have names for.

There's an array of colours, mostly deep blues and greens, and he's sure none of this is from the same time period or the same culture and he's not into art, but damn if it isn't impressive.

Beside him he hears Zayn let out a small gasp. Louis turns to him with a raised brow. Zayn's eyes are wide and he looks very much like a child on Christmas morning.

“Mr. Styles,” he says, stepping further into the building with outstretched arms. “This is- this is amazing.”

He sounds surprised and Louis's left wondering how much Zayn actually knew about this collection. Zayn had admitted to them that he hadn't known much. Louis had been left under the impression that Zayn knew more than what he apparently did.

He closes the door behind him, then follows Zayn and Harry further into the building. Off to the side he sees the Gauguin leaning against the wall, halfway covered by a tarp of some sort.

“I know most of this stuff doesn't go together at all,” Harry's saying as he walks up to Zayn. “But I figure something can be done.”

Zayn's nodding before Harry finishes. “Oh, yes. Plenty can be done with this.” He walks to one of the tables and bends, getting a closer look at something Louis can't see. “This, this right here.” He points to it, waiting for Harry to get closer. “It's an ancient Egyptian Amulet. _Triad of Isis, Horus, Nephthys_. They were gods, in case you don't know.”

“I did actually,” Harry says, not bothered.

“I was directing that to Mr. Winchester.”

Louis's brow wrinkles. “Hey!”

“Only kidding,” Zayn smiles. “Anyway, this looks like it's from somewhere between 664 and 332 B.C. during the Late Period.”

Zayn straightens, still looking down at the table. “The _Aegis of Isis_. Another ancient Egyptian amulet.” Turning to Harry, he says, “You have a lot from Egypt. The museum would gladly take any of it. As a donation, of course.”

Harry clasps his hands around his back and follows Zayn around the room until he comes to a stop at something hanging. It's on the back wall, Louis can't see much of it, but it looks like some sort of cloth.

“Transylvanian prayer rug,” he hears Zayn say as he steps closer. “It looks like it's from the early eighteenth century. Turkish, maybe. It could possibly be from the Kula region.” Zayn turns back to Harry. “Beijing would love to have this. Although, I suppose the Turkish and Islamic Arts Museum would love it just as much.”

“I've got several other rugs and tapestries,” Harry comments. “Not sure where they all came from, but I'm pretty sure most are from parts of Asia.”

Zayn nods. “Yes. Most places in Asia were big on textiles. They had the resources.” He starts walking again, coming to a stop in front of another table. “You've got plenty of ceramics, I see.”

“I've got plenty of everything.”

Louis lets himself smile, sure that Zayn's too engrossed in the collection to notice. In his pocket, his phone vibrates. He pulls it out, seeing that it's Liam. It's in their group chat.

**I've got the code. Meet at Zayn's?**

Louis takes a deep breath. He types out his reply, saying that Zayn's still with Harry, but yes they'll meet. He pockets his phone again, sighing.

This is it. The job is almost to an end, which means he's only got a small window of time left with Harry. For a brief second, he considers yelling to Harry that Zayn's an imposter and that he's planning on robbing Harry. He shakes the thought away quickly. He wouldn't do that, not to Zayn, and definitely not to himself. 

It'd be inevitable that Harry would figure out that he was involved. It'd be inevitable that Harry would be angry and hurt and probably have them both arrested, ultimately ending whatever is going on between the two of them. It'd hurt. Louis's not sure he could ever come back from that.

When he tunes back into Zayn and Harry's conversation, they're standing in front of one of the paintings. Zayn's gesturing to it, saying, “Picasso was a genius, though not many knew of him before his death.” Zayn lets out a loud breath. “I didn't know you had the _Les noces de Pierrette_.”

“Why would you? Not many people do know that,” Harry replies.

Zayn stiffens, realizing his mistake, but quickly recomposes himself. “I just meant that the last I heard of it, it was in Japan. Part of a private collection.”

Harry shrugs. “Well, it's not.”

“I see that,” Zayn smiles, then moves on.

Louis's not sure how long Zayn takes to go through the place. He doesn't stop at everything, doesn't comment on everything. Louis's sure Zayn's only looking at the things that he's interested in, mostly Egyptian art from what Louis can tell, but he's only half listening too busy watching the way Harry's listening intently to Zayn explaining what the pieces are, where they came from, and the stories to each.

Harry looks positively thrilled as Zayn goes through the history of some ceramic jar from South America. Louis's trying not to let the guilt that's been settled in his stomach get to him. It's becoming increasingly harder.

“I don't think I have to tell you, Mr. Styles,” Zayn says, coming to a rest in the center of the room. “But this collection you have here is worth millions, possibly billions. I can't know for sure until I look at each individual piece. If you want me to, that is.”

Harry's worrying his bottom lip between his fingers. “What would you do with it all?” he asks, making a sweeping motion with his hand. “I mean, what are my options? What could I do?”

Zayn takes a moment to answer. “Well, if you were to decide to sell, I'd do it in a private auction. You'd have to make sure to have each piece looked at first. Find the real value and whatnot.” Zayn pauses, glancing at the Gauguin. “If you were to want to donate, you'd still need the pieces looked over, just to be sure, you know. I know we would love to have any of it. I know museums all over the world would accept anything you choose to donate. And of course, you could do a combination of both.”

“I don't have a time limit do I?”

Zayn shakes his head. “No, of course not. Take as long as you need. Contact me or the museum or whoever whenever you want.”

They take one last walk around the room before coming to a stop in front of Louis. Zayn and Harry say their goodbye's and Zayn walks out, giving Louis a look that says “We'll talk later”.

Once Zayn's out of the building, Harry gives one last glance at the room before ushering Louis out.

“It's weird,” he comments on their way to the car. 

“What's weird?”

“Thinking about getting rid of some of this,” Harry replies, running a hand through his hair. “You know, the whole dad thing. It's jut weird.”

Louis nods, feeling worse than he was earlier. “Do you know what you're going to do?”

Harry shrugs. “Dunno. I'm definitely going to sell some of it, probably most of it. I want to donate some. Keep some to myself, too.”

“Are you going to go through the museum here to do it?”

Harry shrugs again. “Probably. I like Hanif. And he seems to know what he's talking about.”

Zayn does know what he's talking about, Louis wants to say. Zayn lives for this kind of thing. He's in his element and all that. He can't say that, though, because it would definitely give the whole thing away.

“Well, let me know,” he says. “And I'll set everything up for you.”

“I thought you were a bodyguard, not an assistant.”

Louis scoffs. “I have to do background checks and make sure I'm not sending you to dangerous places. It's easier if I set things up.”

He's sure Harry rolls his eyes. “I'm not sure I believe that.”

Neither of them speak again, silent until they reach the car. Harry had decided to give Steve the day off, electing to have Louis drive instead.

“Hey,” Louis begins as he's climbing in. “If I drop you off at the house will you be okay for a while if I go off on my own for a bit?”

Harry turns his head, giving Louis a skeptical look. “Is this another one of your weird meetings with dangerous people?”

“It depends on how you react.”

“Well, I'd say that I'd prefer for you to stay home with me and let me eat you out instead of risking your life, but I know that you're going to do whatever you want.”

The thought of that is nice, Louis has to admit, but he does have to meet with the lads.

“You can eat me out when I get back,” he suggests, catching Harry's smirk.

Harry slouches into his seat. “Yeah, whatever. I'm holding you to that, you know.”

Louis smiles over at him. “Good.”

**

He was feeling good – well not good, more like okay, but that's beside the point – when he dropped Harry off, but as he'd gotten closer to Zayn's he'd started feeling less and less good. Now that he's at the door he feels like flinging himself off a cliff or off Zayn's balcony, he's not picky.

When he walked into Zayn's he was met with three overjoyed faces, which is good for them. He's glad they're happy, he just wishes it didn't come at Harry's expense.

“We've got it, mate,” Zayn's saying as Louis lowers himself into an armchair. “Nothing's stopping us now. Ha!”

“He's having a hard time controlling himself,” Niall comments, earning a smack to the back of the head from Zayn.

“Two days, Niall,” Zayn says, holding up two fingers. “Two days and we'll have it all. Two days and the job is done. Two days.”

“Uh,” Louis starts holding up a finger, “what happens in two days?”

“That's when Zayn's decided to move,” Liam says, walking back in from the kitchen. “I don't see why we can't do it tomorrow, but he's the boss.”

“Because Liam,” Zayn says, dragging Liam's name out and turning to him. “We need to stake the place out. See what kind of human security they have. Niall needs time getting the vehicle.”He drops his voice when he says the next part. “Also, I might have said a thing that made him suspicious.”

Liam frowns. “What'd you say?” he asks at the same time Niall snorts. “Can't believe you fucked up, mate.”

Zayn lets out a breath. “I made some comment about how I didn't know he had a certain piece. He told me that nobody did.”

Niall turns to Louis. “Did Harry seem suspicious?”

Louis shakes his head. “Not at all,” he answers, picking at his jeans. “He actually told me that he quite likes Mr. Hanif. Lord knows why.”

Zayn shoots him a look. “Anyway, in two days we move in, get the stuff and get the hell out and we won't have to worry about Harry Styles anymore.”

“Louis,” Liam says, sitting down on the sofa. “You'll meet us there, right?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but Zayn cuts him off. “Of course he will,” he informs Liam. Turning to Louis, he says “We're doing this at night, so you can sneak out when Styles is sleeping. Text us when you're on your way and we'll be there.”

Niall claps his hands. “So it's all set. Two days and we'll be a hell of a lot richer than we are already.”

Zayn nods. “Liam and I will be staking the place out tomorrow night. You just focus on getting us ready to transport. And all Louis has to do is what he's been doing. Pretend to be the bodyguard and then disappear. It's all perfect.”

And that's – that's not perfect at all. He's almost forgotten that when he leaves Harry will be without a bodyguard, which means he won't be protected. As far as Louis knows, Harry hasn't received anymore threats, but that doesn't mean shit.

It's just another thing for him to feel guilty about. It doesn't set well, knowing that Harry will be unprotected. He may not be receiving threats and an attempt hasn't happened in a while, but Louis's got this feeling that something big is about to happen.

“Are you,um.” He cuts himself off, not sure of what he was about to say. 

“Yes, Louis?” Zayn's got an eyebrow raised, a worried tilt to his mouth.

Louis fish mouths. “I was just wondering if you're sure that we can do it so soon?”

Zayn's mouth drops and Louis's not entirely sure why he said it, but it's out now and there's no taking it back.

“You're trying to drag this out,” Zayn says, tone questioning.

Louis sighs, looking down at his lap. “He's still got people trying to kill him.”

“That's not your job, Louis.”

“Are you in love with him?”

Louis whips his head around to face Niall. “Of course I'm not,” he lies. “But do _you_ want him dead?”

Niall's eyes are narrowed, like he doesn't quite believe Louis. “Harry is a good guy, yeah, but we can't keep protecting him.” His voice is soft, not matching the look he's giving Louis. “You need to realize that.”

He pushes himself out of the chair, turning to Zayn. “You were the one that said 'Oh, Louis. You'll be the bodyguard.' You were the one that set me up with this position. I know you didn't want me to get too involved or whatever, but to earn his trust I had to. I've been keeping him alive for months and now you want me to just stop.”

Somewhere in his mind he knows he's not making much sense or being rational, but he doesn't care. Harry is his priority.

“What are you saying, Louis?” Zayn asks, calmly despite the anger displayed on his face. “You want us to sit on this some more, while Styles lets the collection be distributed all over the fucking world? You want us to endanger our lives so we can protect him?”

“Maybe I do,” Louis responds, throwing his arms up. “You forget that my life has been in danger for months because you set me up to be his bodyguard. I've nearly died protecting him so you could do this damn job. Excuse me for caring a little bit about him.”

Zayn's given up on trying to remain calm. His face is red, jaw clenched as he speaks. “You don't need to care. It was a part, Louis. You were playing a part. It's what your good at, but now you need to leave it.”

It's what he's good at. Yeah, he's good at playing parts, tricking people. But that's not what this is and he thinks Zayn might know that. There's a big possibility Zayn knows this is more than a job to him, knows that Louis cares more than a little about Harry. 

Admitting anything now isn't an option, though, and he's got to finish out the job. He promised Zayn he'd help with this and he always keeps his promises. Harry'll be better off without him anyway. Once Louis's gone Harry can find himself someone that doesn't lie about everything to him, someone he can trust.

It's sobering, that thought, makes him sick to his stomach and want to get out, as far away from Zayn as possible.

“Yeah, okay,” he shrugs, not meeting Zayn's eyes.

“Two days,” he replies, back to being calm. “Two days, text us and let us know you're on your way and we'll meet you there. Unless you want to back out.”

Louis whips his head up, eyes searching. Zayn's giving him an out, which means he most definitely knows. Zayn's giving him an out and as much as he should take it – _wants_ to take it – he can't. He's fucked up too much with Harry already for this to end well in anyway.

He takes a couple of steps forward, stopping when he's in front of Zayn. “I'll be there,” he grits out. 

He stands there for a second letting Zayn watch him carefully before he walks out of the flat with his head held high. 

It's not until he gets to his car that he lets his shoulders slump and a string of profanities fly out of his mouth while he beats his hands on the steering wheel.

When he calms down, he checks his phone seeing he has a text. It's a picture from Harry of his clothed crotch, the outline of his dick visible, with the caption **I'm about to start without you.**

Louis laughs lightly. Leave it to Harry to send him a clothed sext. It's enough to give him a reason to push Zayn and the job out of his mind, though.

These next two days are going to be torture, he thinks just as his phone dings again. This time it's a picture of Harry's very unclothed, very hard dick with no caption.

He quickly types out **don't touch yourself** , tosses his phone into the passenger seat and starts the car. He's got Harry waiting for him and only two days left with him. He's going to get everything out of it that he can.

**

Getting everything out of it that he can ends up being harder than he thought. He's felt entirely too guilty to be able to even look Harry in the eyes.

Since they got back from New York they've been sleeping in the same bed with or without sex. Last night Harry had fallen asleep quickly after two orgasms. Louis was tired, but he felt so badly about the whole thing, that he couldn't fall asleep. He was awake half the night with Harry sleeping pressed up against his chest before he made the decision to go to his own room. 

Harry had found him there this morning, worry etched onto his face. He'd tried to play it off, told Harry he wasn't feeling last night and couldn't sleep and didn't want to keep Harry up so he came in there. It was somewhat the truth, though he doesn't think Harry believed him at all.

Today hadn't been much better. He's tried, he'd tried so hard to act like everything was okay, but he's been quiet, sad, mopey, and snappy in a way he's never been with Harry. He'd felt bad about the way he was acting, but he couldn't stop, couldn't apologize.

Harry had called him out on it a few hours ago and when Louis hadn't said anything, Harry had just assumed that it was because he still wasn't feeling well. He'd told Louis that if he needed anything to come find him and then left him alone. He's been moping around the conservatory all day.

There's something calming about being in there. It's the flowers maybe. He's not sure, but he likes it in there. He's going to miss it. He's going to miss a lot about this. Although, he will not miss having to get the door when someone comes to it.

It's Niall, knows before even answering the door. Niall had texted him about an hour ago saying he wanted to come over and talk. A talk is not something he's looking forward to. There's no escaping it, though, especially since Niall's at the door Louis just opened.

“Where's Harry?” he asks, walking through the doorway, not bothering with a proper hello.

“Sleeping.”

Harry had told him he was going to bed, though he suspects Harry's not sleeping. Harry's probably working or reading or waiting for Louis.

“So we're not going to bother him by talking?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Niall walks down the hall, disappearing through the kitchen door. Louis follows slowly, every bit of him itching to run away. When he walks into the kitchen Niall's puttering around in the fridge. He pulls out a beer.

Holding it out and not turning away from the fridge, he asks, “You want it?”

“No.”

Niall hums, shrugging and takes a step back allowing the fridge door to shut on it's own. He pops the cap off, taking a long drink, eyes watching as Louis lowers himself into one of the chairs at the table.

He doesn't look at Niall, tries very hard to ignore Niall's there at all. Somehow if he ignores it all he thinks it's going to go away. It's stupid, but he's trying. 

"You want to tell me what happened in Sao Paulo," Niall says from where he's leaning against the wall, breaking the silence. 

Looking up at Niall, he sighs. "You know what happened." 

"No I don't," Niall replies, shaking his head. "You've never told me. I don't know a damned thing other than you fucked a guy, he caught you, you got arrested, put in prison, and if it hadn't been for Liam you'd probably be dead. That's all I know. I don't know the details, what motivated you. You keep comparing what happened in Sao Paulo to what's happening now with Harry. I don't think it's the same at all." 

It's true, he never talked to Niall about Sao Paulo outright. He mentioned it once in passing, but it was brief and Niall didn't question him further. He's sure that they've all discussed it when he hasn't been around. He knows Liam and Zayn definitely have, though Liam hadn't ever mentioned it to Zayn before Louis had gotten drunk and cried about it to Zayn. So he's not sure how much Liam's actually told Niall, if anything at all. It was probably all Zayn. 

Niall's right about the situations being different. In Sao Paulo he was looking for sex and nothing else. Harry's different. Louis's motivation for this is different. He'd tried so hard not to let himself fall into Harry, but in the beginning it had been for a different reason. He'd been afraid of the exact same thing happening: just sex. It ended up being completely different. 

"Same end game," he mumbles, not looking away from his lap. "It's going to end horribly." 

"I notice you didn't deny what's happening with Harry." 

There's no judgment in Niall's voice or on his face, but Louis still feels uncomfortable. Besides, Harry loves Niall to death, so Niall's probably known for a while what was happening, which would explain how he reacted at Zayn's the previous night. He's had time to think and prepare himself for this confrontation. 

"You think I'm so stupid I didn't know Harry would tell you? I know he thinks you're like real mates and all." 

A sad smile crosses Niall's face, making Louis think Niall's also fallen for Harry's charm. In a different, completely platonic way of course. 

Niall sets his beer on the worktop beside him. "I could tell by the way you're actin'. He's not exactly told me. Kind of hints at it. Not to mention I know it happened once, remember? Also, I know he's gone for you." 

His stomach drops at that. He didn't need it confirmed. He doesn't need something else to actually worry about. Whatever Harry's feelings are for him will just makes things worse.

"That's the problem," he whines. "If I was just dealing with my emotions it'd be fine." 

Niall shakes his head. "No it wouldn't." 

"But I've got to think about Harry," he continues, ignoring Niall. "I don't know what to do," he confesses after a pause. 

"You could stop the job," Niall says simply. "Come clean. Tell him everything. He'd be pissed, but after some time he'll forgive you." 

"How do you know?" 

Niall crosses his arms, his eyes softening. "Like I said, gone for you." 

But he can't come clean. He can't confess his true intentions for several reasons. It's Zayn's job. If Louis were to confess to Harry he'd be killing the job. Zayn would murder him. 

There's Harry to think about as well. Niall may think Harry could forgive him, but it wouldn't be that easy. If he ignored his own feelings, which would hard, but ideal, he'd continue on with the job and just disappear out of Harry's life forever with most of Harry's father's art collection and no note or anything explaining. Harry doesn't deserve that. Maybe he would leave a note, not that it'd make a difference to Harry. 

With a shake of his head, he says, "Anyway, that's not happening. It's not my job remember? And I don't want to hurt him, but no matter what I do I will."

Niall's eyes soften even more. It's a few seconds before he replies.

"Do you love him?" 

Louis's breath hitches. Does Harry love him? Is that why Niall's asking? Or is Louis just that damn obvious? Or is this going to turn into a repeat of last night?

"Maybe. Probably," he lies. Niall narrows his eyes. "Yes," he concedes so quietly he hopes Niall didn't hear. 

He did, though, if the sigh is anything to go by. He pushes himself away from the wall. He pulls a chair away from the table, positioning it directly in front of Louis. 

"Are you going to tell Zayn?" 

Louis drops his head into his hands. "I can't," he sighs. "Him and Liam already think I'm incapable of pulling jobs. If I tell Zayn about this he won't ever want to work with me again. I'll get a reputation. Not to mention he gave me an out yesterday and I didn't take it." 

"They don't think that," Niall says quickly. "They just worry. They're the type of people that need things to be perfect. They don't actually think you're a fuck up." 

"Aren't I, though?" he asks, dropping his hands to his thighs. "May I remind you of Sao Paulo. And what's happening now. How about what happened in Paris with Zayn and Perrie?" 

Niall snorts. "That was mostly Zayn's fault. He fell in love with her and let his guard down. That's why I don't think he could fault you for Harry. He'll try, but he'll just need a reminder of that and he'll shut up." 

He fixes Niall with a disbelieving look. "He definitely faults me for Sao Paulo." 

"True," he shrugs. "But let's be real here, you weren't in love then. That was just a good shag. You were being reckless. That's what he faults you for." 

"I've been reckless with Harry," he admits. 

"You can't help who you fall in love with, mate,” Niall shrugs. After a pause, he questions, “Why didn't you take the out?”

Louis bites his lip. “I don't know,” he drags out, running a hand down his face. “It's Zayn's job. I can't fuck it up any more.”

Niall snorts. “No offense, but I'm pretty sure we could do this last bit without you.”

“Okay, sure, but also, I've fucked up too much with Harry.”

“He could forgive you.”

“Maybe.”

They fall silent again. Listening to the quiet humming of the fridge, he's hit with a question he wants to ask Niall.

“How come you're okay with this?”

Niall's brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“How are you okay fucking Harry over like this? I thought you liked him.”

He slumps back into his seat, picking at the cuticle on his ring finger. “I do like him. Great guy, but he's a job.”

Louis scoffs. “It can't be that easy for you.”

Niall shrugs. “Look, you know that in this business relationships are hard to come by, let alone keep. I like Harry, yeah, but come tomorrow night that's it.”

He doesn't say anything, continuing to stare at the wall over Niall's head. Niall sighs, getting to his feet.

“Look, Louis,” he says quietly, pushing the chair back to it's original spot. “Maybe don't beat yourself up too much. If you care about him as much as I think you do, make this last day as nice as you can.”

As Niall walks out, he continues staring at the wall, Niall's words running through his head over and over.

_Make this last day as nice as you can._

It's easier said than done. He can't do anything about the guilt or feeling the need to run away. Things with Harry are going to end tomorrow night whether he wants them to or not. 

There's a part of him that wants to do as Niall said, but the more rational part of his brain is reminding him that there's nothing he can do to make himself feel better. Not to mention, he can make tomorrow the best day ever for both of them, but that'll only make them both hurt worse.

He doesn't know how long he's sitting in the kitchen by himself with Niall's long forgotten beer. He doesn't remember making the conscious decision to go upstairs to get in bed with Harry, but he's opening the door, revealing Harry slouched over in the bed, asleep, with a book propped open on his chest.

Louis's heart clenches, quietly shutting the door. He makes his way to Harry's side of the bed, grabs the book. Closing it, he sets it on the bedside table. He shuts the lamp off and turns to leave, but something is catching his wrist.

When he turns, Harry's staring up at him, light from the window eliminating his face. “Stay,” he says, voice barely loud enough for Louis to catch it and eyes pleading.

It makes Louis's heart drop to his stomach, but he's nodding and climbing into the bed next to him. 

Harry falls back asleep almost immediately, his arms wrapped around Louis. It's a bit uncomfortable, not how they usually sleep since Harry is the one that likes to be held. But Harry wants to hold him now like it's his way of trying to hold on to Louis because he knows Louis's about to leave.

Louis rolls his eyes at himself. He lets his arm wrap around Harry's shoulders as he silently laughs at himself. There's no way Harry knows.

He falls asleep that night with Niall's voice in his head.

_Make this last day as nice as you can._

**

Making this last day as nice as he could ended up being not nice at all. He'd woken up drenched in sweat due to a dream he was having that was _not_ about Harry finding out who he really was. Once he's realized that Harry was very much not angry and still sleeping next to him he calmed down, but the dread for tonight hit causing him to only be able to stay in bed for another ten minutes before he'd forced himself up an out of Harry's bedroom.

He's being quieter than yesterday, though not as snappy, which is just a testament to how horrible he feels about the whole thing. Harry's not tried to talk to him much, but every time they're in the same room Harry sends him these worried glances.

At one point this morning he was reminded of all those weeks ago in the car when he'd been panicking. Harry had been giving him looks then, too, but because he thought he'd received another threat. If that's what Harry is thinking now it'd be better for both of them. Then again maybe not. He doesn't know. 

There's only five hours until night hits, meaning only about eight before Harry's asleep and Louis has to leave. With each passing hour he feels more and more like he's about to jump out of his skin, feels like he's about to have his heart broken completely. It's probably why he's taken up to pacing the first floor of the house.

He feels antsy, jittery and his hands are shaking, so that's not good. No matter what he does they won't stop. He'd nearly broken a plate earlier because they were shaking so much. He'd tried to smoke, hoping that would calm his hands, but it did nothing, just made it worse.

“Louis.”

He jumps back, startled, holding his hand over his chest. It's Paul – fucking Paul, standing in the doorway of the security office and the hall with a cocked eyebrow. Louis shoots him his best irritated glare and drops his hand.

“Paul.”

Paul rolls his eyes, taking a step into the hall. “I wanted to talk to you.”

There's a brief moment where he thinks Paul wants to talk because he's found out what's happening tonight, but the thought is quickly killed when Paul continues.

“It's about Harry.”

Which does nothing to calm him really. If there's a problem with Harry it affects Louis, maybe not as much in the long run as he would like it too, but at least for tonight it affects him.

“What about Harry?”

Paul clenches his jaw, glancing around the hall. “It's nothing big,” he says, voice low. “I just, nothing has happened in a while, you know. And he hasn't gotten any more threats.”

When Paul doesn't continue and it becomes evident he's not going to finish on his own, Louis prompts him. “And the problem is?”

Paul looks around the hall again, coming closer to Louis. “The problem is, I've got a bad feeling about it, is all. I feel like something big is about to happen, but I don't know what or when.”

Something big is about to happen, he almost says.

“It's like that feeling you had about that charity event, you know. I thought you were just being paranoid, but something did happen. You should of trusted your gut.”

Louis's brow furrows and his eyes narrow. “Wh- what are you saying?”

“I'm saying, I'm trying to trust my gut,” Paul replies, giving him a pointed look. “I feel like something's about to happen. It's been too long since something did. I want you to keep an extra careful watch on him, but don't let him know. You know how he gets.”

Louis nods, mumbling a “yeah”.

Paul gives him a questioning look. After a moment he steps back, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, that's all,” he says, continuing to walk backwards. “Go continue on with your moping, Winchester. I'm not going to ask because I don't care, but if it starts interfering with your ability to do your job I will start to care and not in a good way.”

He watches as Paul disappears through the doorway back into the security office. It's not comforting that Paul has the same feeling as him, not in the slightest, but it does make him more justified in worrying about it. Although, he supposes this wouldn't help in convincing Zayn to hold off on finishing this tonight. There's nothing that could convince Zayn to wait. Unless someone attempted something tonight.

Nothing has happened in a while, though, not since they got back from New York and there were people here waiting for them. Harry hasn't even received threats in a while, not since him and Louis started getting close. 

Louis scoffs at himself. Zayn was probably jumping for the moon when he found out someone wanted Harry dead. It gave him the perfect way into Harry's life. It's almost like-.

No. That's not possible. It's not possible, is it? 

Zayn wouldn't set this whole thing up just to plant Louis. Someone actually died and Louis's own life was in danger. Zayn wouldn't go through all that. He'd never actually attempt to kill anyone unless he was _actually trying to kill them._

It's a brief moment of doubting Zayn, of thinking Zayn's set this up, but it's an idea he quickly because Zayn would _never_ do that. He knows Zayn well enough to know he'd never endanger someone's life like this. At least not someone like Harry.

Even still, if Zayn did set this up, he thinks, that means when the job is over Harry won't be in danger like Louis though he would. It's a poor attempt to ease his worry. It doesn't work because if it _were_ true and Zayn had been responsible for it all, him and Louis would need to have a nice long chat about what is appropriate and what isn't.

Louis groans, rubbing at his temples. He's being ridiculous. Zayn isn't responsible for this, the timing just worked out right in a way. Trying to get rid of his doubts of Zyan, he shakes his head. Now isn't the time for doubt, not so close to the end.

It's only when he hears Paul yell, “Go do something productive, Winchester!” that he realizes he's been standing in the hall completely alone for several minutes, groaning. 

“Right,” he mutters, clapping his hands. “Something productive. I'll just go do that.”

Something productive ends up being him making a bowl of cereal and sitting on his arse for three more hours.

**

He's back to pacing, has been for at least an hour this time, muttering under his breath about “stupid Zayn” and his “stupid jobs”. At one point he walked into the wall because he was too busy damning Zayn to hell to notice how close he was to it. It's a wonder Paul hasn't sent him off somewhere.

Maybe he should be a bit concerned about his inability to sit still. Although, that is something he struggles with on a daily basis, but today has been much worse. True, he did sit for a whole three hours in the kitchen – Harry's cleaning lady was giving him suspicious looks every time she walked in – but even then he was squirming around and fidgeting. He should probably be thankful that his hands aren't shaking...yet. 

He's sure that's bound to happen at some point in the next couple of hours, especially since it's night now and Harry's going to be going to bed at any minute. It's not like he can-.

“Louis?”

He's not proud to say it, but he shrieks, jumping and placing a hand over his heart. When he spins around he sees Harry standing in the doorway of his bedroom. Why is everyone standing in doorways anyway?

“You scared the hell out of me!”

Harry, as concerned as he seems, still smiles. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks. “I've seen you out here, pacing back and forth for about twenty minutes.”

Honestly, he didn't even known he'd made it upstairs. 

Instead of responding, he decides to walk past Harry into his room and sit on Harry's bed, head in his hands. Harry follows cautiously, shutting the door behind him.

“Are you all right?” he questions as he sits down next to Louis.

Louis doesn't take his head out of his hands, but he shakes it anyway. “I hadn't even known I was up here,” he admits, quietly. 

He can't see Harry, but he can damn well picture the look he's being given – the pursed lips that look more worried than they do angry, the sad, glistening eyes, and the slightly furrowed brow.

“You've been, um. You've been a bit...off, lately.” He feels Harry shift around, probably angling his body more toward Louis. “Like, you've not been very...I don't know. You've been kind of distant.”

He's speaking slower than normal, probably on account of him not being able to read Louis's mood or what's happening. Louis could still listen to him all day.

He peeks through his fingers, turning his head. Harry has angled his body toward him, leg underneath him, and head tilted.

Sighing, he drops his hands, letting himself take in as much of Harry as he can. “I know and _I'm sorry_. I've just been a bit stressed.”

Which was probably not the best thing to say, considering Harry still has people trying to kill him...at least Louis and Paul think.

“Has something happened?”

Not as such.

Louis rubs as his face, before shifting so he's facing Harry. “Not really. Nothing has happened, actually.”

“Then what's the problem?” Harry prompts, reaching between them to intertwine their fingers.

“The problem is,” Louis starts, “is that nothing has happened. No threats. No attempts. It's weird. And it worries me. And I probably shouldn't be telling you any of this because you shouldn't have to worry, but-.”

“I've been worried this whole time.”

“-I think you should have a right to know this, especially since it's very visibly affecting me.”

Will the lying to Harry ever end? Probably not, since this is their last night together. That hurts more than it should. Harry doesn't know. He doesn't know that this is the last time he'll see Louis.

“Also,” he continues, “We're still no closer to figuring out who it is. It's just aggravating.” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Sorry I've been a bit of a prick.”

Harry shakes his head. “It's understandable.” 

He's quiet for a moment, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on Louis's hand. It sends sparks through Louis and reminds him that this is the last chance he gets at touching Harry, the last chance they have of being together. The overwhelming need to _just be with_ Harry one last time might be too much for him.

“But I don't want you to worry yourself like this. Or do anything stupid.” Louis snorts at that. Like he'd ever do anything stupid. “I'm not entirely sure I'd ever be okay again if something were to happen to you.”

And that- that's something. 

Something that makes Louis's heart crack a bit. Harry has no fucking clue who Louis is, what he's really doing here, or what's about to happen. He's got no clue that Louis will be gone in a matter of hours and if he's hinting around what Louis thinks he's hinting, then Louis should just leave right now. Leave and not let what's about to happen happen because that's only going to be harder for both of them.

Too bad Louis isn't that strong of a person. He isn't strong enough to deny himself one last night with Harry or to deny Harry this one last night.

With a sound very close to a sob, Louis surges forward, free hand wrapping around Harry's neck, and pulls him into a kiss. Harry's surprised at first as their nose bump together, but it's only a second before he's tilting his head and tangling his hand in Louis's hair.

They kiss like that for a while, slow and sweet, hands still locked together between them. When they have to break apart for air, he rests his forehead on Harry's so their sharing each other's breath – Harry's warm on his face.

“I want-.”

He cuts himself off. He doesn't know what he wants. There's part of him that wants to feel Harry all around him, but he also wants to feel Harry in him. If they had the time, he'd suggest both.

“What do you want?” Harry breaths out, mouthing along Louis's jaw.

Louis closes his eyes, tilting his head to give Harry better access. “I want you to fuck me. Like, you know, actually fuck me. Not like you did last time with just your fingers.”

Harry leans back, a smug smile present. “I thought you enjoyed that.”

“I did, but that's not what I want now.”

Harry's smile turns softer. “Okay.”

Before he can say anything else, Harry's pulling him into another kiss, hands pushing Louis's shirt up. They break apart only long enough for Harry to pull it off all the way, then Harry's pushing at his shoulder lightly.

“Come on, Lou,” he whines, pushing some more. “On your back. On your _back_.”

Louis leans forward, nips at Harry's bottom lip. Harry groans, but still pushed at Louis. He finally moves so he's laying on his back, staring up at Harry as he straddles him.

“You know, sometimes I'm not entirely sure you're real.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow as he lifts his own shirt off, tossing it behind him. “Could say the same for you.” Then he's ducking down to kiss Louis. He's leans over lower, reaching into the bedside table to grab the lube and condom, never once breaking the kiss.

When he's got it, he sets it on the bed close to Louis's thighs and starts trailing kisses down Louis's neck and chest. Harry sucks one of Louis's nipples into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping it, causing Louis to moan and arch off the bed.

Harry continues trailing kisses down Louis body, stopping when he gets to his crotch. He starts mouthing at Louis through his jeans, hands running up and down Louis's sides. Louis's own hands are clenching in the sheets.

He's having a hard time staying still, especially as Harry starts undoing his jeans. He lifts his hips up a little, allowing Harry to pull them and his pants off, not stopping til they're on the ground. Louis watches as Harry quickly disposes of the rest of his clothes before he pushes Louis's legs apart with his knee.

“So fucking beautiful,” he mutters as he settles between Louis's thighs.

“You're already between my legs, Styles, you don't have to compliment me.”

Harry smiles at him as he grabs the lube. “I like complimenting you. 'sides, it's true.”

Louis's response is nothing more than a breathy moan as Harry gently presses a finger into his hole. He's only got it pressed in to his first knuckle, but it's already enough to drive Louis mad.

Harry's peppering kisses up and down Louis's thighs as he pumps his finger in and out slowly. He doesn't need to be this slow, could go a lot faster. If this were a normal day, Louis would tell him that, but he wants to drag this out as long as possible, wants this to go on forever.

“Can you handle another?”

“What do you think?”

Harry chuckles, teasing Louis's rim with two fingers, and goes back to kissing his thighs. Louis lets his head fall back on the mattress, trying to even out his breathing. Harry's still opening him up slowly and he's almost able to push away his thoughts of this being their last time.

He's jolts when he feels Harry's tongue along side his fingers.

“You've really got a thing for doing that, don't you?”

Harry just smirks up at him, then goes back to opening Louis up, licking around him every now and then. Eventually, Harry adds a third finger and it's almost too much for Louis, but he resists the urge to put a hand on himself.

Harry leans back over Louis's body, hand propping him up and leans down to kiss Louis. When he pulls away, he asks, “You ready?”

Louis nods. “Yeah, yeah.”

Harry kisses him again, blindly looking for the condom. When he's got it, he pulls away biting at Louis's lip. As Harry's rolling the condom, Louis wraps a hand around the base of his dick, applying just enough pressure to have him biting his lip.

Harry lines himself up, the head of his cock barely brushing Louis's hole. He's just kneeling there, hand on Louis's hip and staring into Louis's eyes. Louis stares back, breathing in and out, waiting.

When Harry finally does push in, it's slow and Louis wraps his legs around Harry's waist, heels of his feet digging into Harry's bum. He stays there, not moving giving Louis enough time to adjust, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin of Louis's hip.

Louis whimpers, trying to grind into Harry. “Come on.”

Harry leans over Louis, propping himself up with a hand placed next to his head, as he starts thrusting slowly. His hair is hanging down around his face, his necklaces hanging so they're resting on Louis's chest. It's quite intimate. Certainly more intimate than they've ever been before, which is only fitting, Louis guesses.

Harry's just hovering above him, close enough for them to share air, but not enough for Louis to catch Harry's mouth with his, so they're left just staring into each other's eyes as Harry's thrusting into him, brushing against his prostate and earning breathy moans from Louis.

It's slow and so so very intimate, body's slick with sweat and the only sound is their breathing and skin on skin. Louis's sure he's never had sex quite like this, would be content to stay in this moment forever, would be okay if this is the only time he does have sex like this because he's not sure he wants this with any one that's not Harry.

Yes, he'd be quite content to stay here with Harry like this for the rest of his life, ignoring the outside world. Ignoring Zayn and his stupid jobs, ignoring the fact that someone wants Harry dead, ignoring everything. He'd be quite content, indeed.

But no matter how their stamina holds up, neither of them could keep this up for all of eternity. So as Harry's thrusts start speeding up, getting erratic, Louis starts stroking his dick, slow at first, but getting quicker as Harry's thrusts speed up. 

With the hand not holding him up, Harry grabs at Louis's dick, his hand covering Louis's. He's jerking Louis off with Louis's own hand, which really shouldn't affect Louis like it does, but nothing about this is normal. He's close, though. He's extremely close. Harry is too, he can tell. He's found a speed, staying at it, but his thrusts are sloppier than before.

They're still staring at each other. It should be weird to have all of Harry's attention on him like this, but it's nice and means so much more than he'd like to admit. So much more that in order to stop himself from blurting it out, he reaches up, grabs Harry by the neck and pulls him into a kiss.

His other hand is digging into the skin of Harry's lower back. They're both close. He can tell Harry's trying to drag this out and Louis would love that, yeah, but he's so damn close, can feel it building and he needs his release.

He tightens his legs around Harry's waist, pulling him impossibly closer, pushing back into Harry as he thrusts in. They work up a steady rhythm like that. One that has them, gasping into the other's mouth. Harry's breath is hot on his mouth and he's hitting Louis's prostate with every thrust and it isn't much longer before his orgasm is hitting him. He's spilling over onto his and Harry's hands, clenching around Harry as Harry continues thrusting, chasing his own orgasm.

Harry buries his head into Louis's neck, pressing an open mouthed kiss there as he comes. He rides it out, almost impossibly quiet. When he's through it, he brings his head back, then kisses Louis again. It's a minute before he slips out of Louis, Louis wincing slightly at the feeling.

He's quiet as Harry pulls the condom off, tying it up as he climbs off the bed an disappears into the en suite. He remains quiet as Harry returns with a flannel and cleans them off. When he's done, he throws it into the floor, leaning back over Louis and kissing him lazily.

When Harry pulls back, Louis smiles up at him. “See what happens when you just do what I ask?”

Harry laughs, quietly. “Yeah, but you also like it when I don't.”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “You can't prove it.”

“I think your orgasms prove it.”

He rolls his eyes, not protesting when Harry swats at him to get him to lift his body up so he can pull the duvet over them. When Harry gets them under the duvet, he turns on his side and pulls Louis to him, so they're chest to chest.

Harry's almost asleep, like usual, but it'd be a hell of a lot nicer for him to stay awake as long as possible so Louis can put off his thing – the thing he's trying very hard not to think about – but Harry's almost asleep, eyes barely open as he squeezes his Louis to him a little more.

Somewhere deep down Harry must know something's about to happen, Louis thinks. It would explain why whatever happened between them just now happened, why Harry's being a little clingier than usual. Or he could be thinking too much again, driven by his hope that Harry would suddenly pop up and say, “Oh, by the way, Louis, I know who you really are and what you're planning, but it's okay. I love you anyway”. 

Yeah, that'd never happen. Although, if it did -.

He can't think like that. There's no way in any universe where he can be with Harry. This was his last day with Harry and he spent most of it feeling sorry for himself and coming off as a raging lunatic. But they got this, at least. They got this quiet moment with Harry drifting off to sleep, holding Louis. It's peaceful and probably something that's extremely good for Harry. Unfortunately, all it's doing for Louis is making him feel worse. 

As soon as Harry's asleep, Louis has to leave, meet the others and fuck off out of Harry's life for good. It fucking sucks and the guilt and anger at himself for what he's doing to Harry – what he _done_ – is eating him up. He's played with Harry's emotions, though not intentionally and he could argue that he's played with his own and he's lied and wrongfully gained Harry's trust.

Harry should damn him to hell. And that's really not even enough, Louis thinks because he's done all this and more to Harry Styles. Harry Styles is not the type of person you do this to. Harry Styles does not deserve this sort of treatment. Harry Styles deserves everything good and someone who can love him, that doesn't lie, that's not about to break Harry's trust. He deserves someone who isn't Louis and that's just heartbreaking. 

Because Louis loves Harry so so much. He fell in love with Harry Styles when he wasn't supposed to and it's causing him a lot of problems, but he thinks it's one of the best things he's ever done. Falling in love with Harry was simultaneously the best and worst thing he could have ever done and he'd shout it from the rooftops if he could. He'd tell the whole world, but he can't. He can't even tell Harry.

It's just three little words. Three words, is all he has to say. Three words and he'd be telling the truth. But those three words, no matter how truthful, won't do anything now but break Harry's heart – and his – by tomorrow morning. 

Maybe if he said them while Harry was sleeping he'd feel better, except, no that won't help. Nothing can help him now. Not even all the alcohol in the world could h-.

“Are you about to cry?”

Louis slams his eyes shut, praying to every god out there that Harry just lets it go. He hadn't even realized that he was tearing up, hadn't realized that Harry was still awake. There's no use in ignoring him, though, because he can feel Harry shifting around to try and get a better look.

“No,” he answers, quietly, eyes still shut. “'m fine. I'm okay.”

If he were looking at Harry he's sure he'd see Harry biting his bottom look the way he does when he's worried. It's another one of those things he's picked up about Harry that he'll never forget.

“Your hands are shaking.”

He's not judgmental about it. It doesn't sound like he suspects anything, but it still causes Louis's heart to stutter.

“I'm fine,” he says again, a little more forceful, opening his eyes with the hope that they've dried out. They haven't, but Harry's already seen, so it's not like it makes much of a difference. “I'm fine. Let's just go to sleep, yeah.”

“I'm not sur-.”

Louis presses a quick kiss to Harry's mouth. When he pulls back, Harry's staring at him with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes. “I'm okay, honest. I've just been stressed out with, you know, so I think I just need some sleep,” he says. “I'll be fine in the morning,” he adds when Harry still doesn't seem convinced. “I promise.”

It's a fucking lie. Probably the biggest lie he's told. He won't be fine in the morning. He'll be the opposite of fine, but Harry's not going to know either way, will probably think Louis's living it up somewhere on whatever money he gets from Harry's art, so he figures it's okay to lie this one time.

Harry regards him for a moment, but his eyes soften as he presses a kiss to Louis's forehead before resting his head back on the pillow.

“You know,” he starts, “I really do like you. Very much a lot.”

Louis smiles. If it's a sad smile, Harry doesn't have to know. “I really like you, too. Very much a lot, also.”

It's easier than saying “I love you”, but he figures Harry knows what he means, probably said it himself because he's unsure of how Louis feels, unsure of how Louis's react like now. Break down in a fit of laughter and tears, probably, but Louis's not too keen on finding out right now.

Harry pulls him closer to him, head resting just on top of Louis's. It's almost like he doesn't want Louis to be able to leave, which makes Louis laugh to himself.

Everything about this is fucked up. He thinks Harry knows, but at the same time, he doesn't know anything at all and neither does Harry, so why should he be this torn up about it? He shouldn't. He is.

It takes an hour for Harry fall asleep. An hour in which Louis curses everything and tries to commit everything about Harry to memory. It's an hour after that before he can bring himself to get out of bed, collect his clothes, and walk out of Harry's room, leaving him forever.

**

He'd moved fast to get out of Harry's, didn't even take the time to gather most of his things from his room, just the things he knew he'd want again. (And no he did not take his favorite lavender jumper of Harry's because that would just be pathetic...he's fucking pathetic.) But once he'd actually gotten out of Harry's he'd moved slow and very much without consciously thinking about it.

He'd texted Zayn to let him know he was on his way and gotten in his car. He doesn't remember anything about the drive to the warehouse, which probably isn't the safest thing, but he's here in one piece – at least physically, figuratively and mentally he's still half at Harry's in bed with him.

But he's here, standing in front of the door to Harry's warehouse, glaring up at the sky like it's the one that fucked everything up. 

He hears the door open and someone sigh, but he doesn't look. He knows who it is.

“Jesus Christ, Lou, will you get in here.”

Zayn's grabbing his arm and pulling him inside quicker than Louis can think. He goes to staring at the ground as Zayn shuts the door behind them and walks around Louis to stand in front of him.

“You okay?”

Louis snaps his head up. Zayn's regarding him with a careful expression and wearing all black. “Typical,” he snorts under his breath. “I'm fine,” he says loud enough for Zayn to hear as he pushed past, walking further into the building. “So, what are we grabbing? Tell me now. I don't want to be at this all night. Some of us have things to do.”

Liam and Niall are standing off to the side glancing between themselves and Zayn, sending worried glances at Louis every now and then.

“Communicating with your eyes is pointless,” he comments picking up a vase of some sort. “I know what you're saying. I'm fine.” He turns to face Zayn, setting the vase back on the table. “Now, what are we grabbing?”

Zayn watches him a moment before answering. “Just about anything, really. I know what I really want and what will make the most money, so I figured I'd grab all that. You three can grab anything else that looks like it'll be worth something. We don't have the kind of time for me to sit here and appraise it all.”

“With that being said,” Niall says, stepping away from Liam. “We don't have enough room for everything. So you know.” 

He ends in shrug that has Louis wanting to hit him. He's being irrational, he knows, but he can't help how he's feeling right now.

“Okay,” he nods. “So, where are we putting it?”

Niall nods his head to the right. Louis looks over his shoulder, seeing a small trailer on wheels.

“What the _hell_ is that?”

“It's a trailer,” Niall answers. “There's three of them. Figured we didn't want to take the chance of people seeing us making multiple trips from here to the truck, which is parked in the back by the way, so we've got three of these that can be rolled onto the the truck whenever they're filled.”

“Right,” he drags out, turning back to the table. He starts messing around with things, not paying much attention to the lads bustling around behind him. He just-. He doesn't want to be here. He'd much rather be in bed with Harry right now, which isn't an option at this point, but he doesn't have to be happy about being here.

He's not sure how long they work like this. Louis not doing much of anything, besides making a general mess of things. Zayn striding around, gathering the pieces he wants. Niall and Liam working together, grabbing smaller pieces and chatting quietly. They're all ignoring him, trying to stay as far away from Louis as they can, like they're afraid he's going to explode any second. He just might.

They fill up one trailer, Niall and Liam taking it out through the back, leaving Zayn and Louis in silence as they wait. It's uncomfortable in a way it never is with Zayn, not in a long time, anyway. His skin is crawling and he wants to bolt.

It's Zayn that breaks the silence. “Why are you being so fucking pouty?” he asks, coming up behind him. 

Louis whips around, glaring, aware that Niall and Liam are coming back with the second trailer already. “Why the hell do you think I'm being pouty?”

“If you don't want to fucking be here than leave,” Zayn growls. He lifts his hand pointing at the door. “The exit is right over there. Unless you want to stay here and be a fucking nuisance.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “A nuisance? Is that really what I am? Because I have some fucking common decency and am actually worried about another human being?”

It's not entirely a lie. This is partly why he's upset, but even he knows he doesn't sound convincing at all.

Zayn scoffs. “I don't have common decency? Is that what you're saying? Because if you are let me remind you that I don't want you risking your life for this guy anymore. I don't care how you feel about him. I don't know why I care about you so fucking much, you've been a right prick about this for sometime now. Maybe stop bitching about it and -.”

“I'm not bitching about it,” Louis defends, even though Zayn's right. “I was just voicing my concern, you self-centered, pretentious-.”

“Alright!” Liam steps between, fixing them both with pointed looks. “You both need to calm the fuck down. In case you've forgotten, we're on a job right now. You all can fight about this when we're done. Maybe don't speak to each other for a while. And Louis if you do want to leave, we won't blame you.”

“I'm not leaving,” Louis says, staring past Liam to look Zayn in the eyes. “I'm going to finish this.”

Liam nods. “Good. Now let's all get back to work.”

He waits for them both to nod in agreement before he turns and walks back to where Niall is messing around with a painting, pretending to not have noticed anything was happening.

Zayn shoots him a pointed look before walking to the other side of the table to sort through things. Louis turns back to whatever ancient thing he was looking at from before, trying to ignore how his heart is aching. It's a futile task because he's surrounded by things that Harry owns an every bit of it reminds him of Harry.

It's another fucking stupid thing about this night. No matter what he does, he can't stop his thoughts from wandering back to Harry. It's like he's walking around in some sort of Harry induced daze that he's never going to be able to escape from.

Him and Zayn are working silently across from each other as Niall and Liam work behind Zayn. He's not catching all of what they're saying, but he can hear enough to know they're not talking about him, so he starts trying to pay more attention to their conversation.

“I'm just saying I think we should go back to how they used to do it during ancient times,” Niall's saying. “The work on these things are much better. Look.”

Louis's not looking, but he's positive Niall's holding something up for Liam to see. 

“And,” Niall continues, “look at how long these things have lasted. Top quality right here. I say do away with these damn machines and go back to doing everything by hand.”

“Yeah, but it'd take longer to do it that way,” Liam argues. “I'm pretty sure there's a reason we've gone to machines.”

Niall sighs, exasperated. “Okay, fair enough, but look at how fragile your iPhone is. The ancients wouldn't make them that fragile.”

“The ancients wouldn't have been making phones at all, Niall,” Zayn says, smile present in his voice. “Doubt you could even make a call with clay and twigs. Though, you could try. I'd like to watch that.”

“I'd pay to watch that,” Liam agrees.

“Alright, you fuckers. I was just trying to prove a point. No need to be that way.”

Louis suppresses a smile as he grabs a blue-ish green vase. It's cracked in one spot, but it's beautiful. Certainly something that he thinks deserves to be in a museum and not in the hands of some black market dealer.

He rolls his eyes at himself. This isn't something he'd normally care about, but as life goes on he supposes people change. He's certainly not quite a cynical as he was months back and he's certainly more heartbroken than before.

_Oh Jesus._

He's really losing it. It must have something to do with how Niall and Liam have stopped talking, meaning they're working in silence, the only sounds coming from when they move something. He's about to wish for someone to say something when someone with a rough, gravelly voice does.

“Louis?” 

It's not the voice he was wanting to hear – at least not right now – and it's got him dropping the vase he was holding, sending it crashing to the floor. He doesn't spare it a glance as he spins around to face Harry with wide eyes. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's aware of the others having stopped what they were doing, but all he can pay attention to is Harry. Harry who looks a mixture of disbelief and anger and possibly hurt, but that could be Louis's imagination. Harry who's just caught Louis about to steal from him. He's frozen to the spot, breathing heavily and staring across the room at the man he didn't want to hurt, but did.

Not knowing what to say is not something that's ever been a problem for him, but for whatever reason it's been a problem with Harry.

“Harry, I-,” he starts, but is cut off by Zayn.

“What are you doing here?” 

His voice is cold and rude, the way it always is when Zayn's ready for a fight. If Louis could take his attention away from Harry he'd tell Zayn to fuck off and not talk to Harry. He doesn't seem to thrown off by it, though.

As he responds, he never looks away from Louis. “He snuck out. I followed,” he says. 

Louis takes a step forward, unaware of it, really. Pieces of the vase crunch beneath his foot. “Harry,” he whines, taking another step forward.

Harry quickly steps back, eyes never leaving Louis. “I should've known,” he says quietly. “I should've known when I found you sneaking around my house at night. I should've known when you lied to me about who Niall really was. I definitely should've known when I found those passports and I.d.'s.” 

It sounds like he's working it out right now, sounds more confused than angry. It's not relieving in anyway.

“I actually might have,” he continues, running a hand through his hair, “but I didn't want to believe it. I actually lo-. How fucking could you?” 

He's back to being angry, having spit out that last part, making Louis want to crawl inside himself and not deal with this, but he's caught. He didn't want this to happen. 

Somehow, he'd figured this would have been different, would've affected them differently had Harry woken up in the morning without Louis. There was no real way he could have connected Louis to his art being stolen, except Niall would have disappeared, too, so maybe he would've, but it wouldn't have been confirmed.

He thought that'd be different, hurt less than this, anyway. Although, he imagines anything would hurt less than Harry looking at him like this, like Louis just ripped his heart out and stomped on it.

“I- Harry.”

He cuts himself off, not knowing what else to say. At this point there isn't anything he can say to make this better in any way, so he just stands there, staring at Harry with tears in his eyes, hopeless.

“You lied to me,” Harry growls. “You protected me. You acted like you cared about me for what? So you and your friends could steal my father's stuff?” 

His voice breaks at the end. Louis has to resist the urge to run over and hug him knowing that Harry would push him away.

Louis still doesn't know what to say. Logically he knows there's nothing he could say to make this better or hurt less, so he stands there, continuing to stare at Harry even though he knows it's making him uncomfortable and possibly – although most definitely – angry.

Everyone's silent. So silent you could hear a pen drop and Louis _doesn't know what to do_. He doesn't know how to fix this or get the lads out of this. He could lie, tell Harry is was all his idea and that he should let the lads go, but that would be another lie. Honesty is what Harry needs right now, not that it will make much of a difference. He's already been lied too many times and he knows it.

They stay in silence, Harry and Louis staring at each other with the others watching quietly, until Niall speaks up.

“Uh, listen” he says, cautiously. “Are you going to have us arrested or...”

He trails off, letting Harry fill in the rest. Harry's eyes flick over to Niall for a second, then back to Louis. Harry's schooled his face into a blank stare, which only hurts Louis even more. This look is the look Harry gets when he's trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. Harry should never have to adopt this look.

“Take it,” he says, voice hard and even. “I don't care. It's just sitting here, gathering dust. I am calling the police in ten minutes. You have that long to take what you want and get out. What happens after ten minutes is up to you.” 

Louis watches, helplessly as Harry turns around stiffly and walks out, slamming the door behind him. It takes all of a second for Louis to decide to run after him.

He collides with the door on his way out, muttering a “damn it”, but he doesn't slow down. Harry and his impossibly long legs are already about halfway to his car near the gate.

Louis pauses his running long enough to yell “Harry!” 

Harry doesn't stop, doesn't give any indication that he's heard Louis at all until he speaks. Louis can barely make it out, but Harry does reply. 

“No, Louis,” he says, not turning to face him. “I don't want to see or speak to you ever again.” 

Which, yeah he figured, but he can't let it end like this. He can't have Harry thinking that he never cared, that he lied about his feelings.

Louis starts running again. When he's halfway to Harry he speaks again. “I didn't mean-.” 

“You didn't mean what?” Harry yells spinning around to face him, causing Louis to stop suddenly, almost falling over when he does. “To make me fall in love with you? Because yeah, I guess you wouldn't expect that. Or care.” 

He turns back around, takes a couple of steps, but stops. “You know, I don't really even care about that shit. I told you why I kept collecting it. Because it reminded me of my dad. It's stupid and I told you all of that. I've never told anyone that before. I-.”

Harry stops, shaking his head. “Never mind,” he grumbles. 

Harry turns back and starts walking to his car again an there is no way Louis is letting Harry walk away that easily.

“Harry-.”

“Go away, Louis,” Harry growls, quickening his pace.

“Just please listen to me.”

The tears are falling now and he can't control them. This is so much worse than he could have ever imagined and Harry won't even listen to him. Not that he owes Louis anything at this point, but Louis's going to try.

Harry ignores him, pulling out his keys as he reaches his car. Louis's running before he makes the conscious decision to do so. When he reaches the car, Harry's about to open the door. Louis slams into him, pulling his arm away from the door handle.

“Harry, please,” he pleads, fighting when Harry tries to pull away from him. “Please!”

“I said I don't want to talk to you,” Harry growls, pushing back into Louis.

Louis's having a hard time breathing, from the running and the crying, but he doesn't stop trying to stop Harry from getting in the car. “Please just listen to me!”

He doesn't see the punch coming, but Harry hits him right in the jaw, not hard enough to do any damage, but it's enough to make Louis falter so Harry can push him away. 

Even when he's got Louis away from him he keeps pushing, harder and harder, Louis stumbling with each one and Louis lets him, too. Lets Harry push and cry and yell because if this is hard on Louis it's even harder for Harry and Louis deserves a hell of a lot more than this.

“You selfish fucking bastard!” Each word is punctuated with a shove in Louis's shoulders. “You know, I knew there were some pretty horrible fucking people out there, but I honestly didn't think they could be like you! I'm actually disgusted that I fell for your shit!”

It's like someone flinging ice water on him. He knew Harry would be angry and hurt and many other things, but he never really thought to what extent, never _let_ himself think about it. But Harry thinks he's a horrible person and yeah, he is, but he's not _that_ horrible. It doesn't matter what he thinks, though. 

All that matters is what Harry thinks. And if he thinks that Louis is the worst person in the world, than Louis is the worst person in the world. It doesn't help that Harry's looking at him with unadulterated rage.

Harry goes to shove him again, but Louis takes a step back, holding his hands up. “Okay,” he breathes out. Harry freezes, breathing hard. “I'll go. I'll leave you alone,” he says quickly, for fear of Harry running away again or of shoving him again. “Just let me say sorry.” Harry opens his mouth to retort, but Louis barrels on. “Things got complicated and I fucked up. I don't have time to explain it all to you, not that you care and not that it would make a difference. But I am sorry. For everything. Except saving your life. That I'm not sorry about.”

He pauses, gauging Harry's reaction. He doesn't have one outwardly, not that Louis expected him too.

“But I never meant for-. I never meant to hurt you, not like this.” Harry snorts, which is the only indication that he's listening to him. “I'm not really a malicious person. This isn't what I wanted to happened. Again, I know it doesn't matter, but you have to know that I'm sorry.” He takes a deep breath, Harry watching with a blank expression. “Harry, I'm so very fucking sorry for everything.”

There, that's it. He's done. That's all he's going to say – all he _can_ say. He watches as Harry watches him, blank expression never falling. He's not sure how long they watch each other before Harry turns, making his way back to his car.

Louis's body slouches, defeated. There's nothing else he can do. Well, there is that one thing, but he can't say that. Harry wouldn't believe him anyway and Louis's not sure he could handle the rejection in this way. So yeah, there's nothing he do.

He watches as Harry grabs the door handle, but he doesn't open the door. Instead, he rests his head on the car, breathing out slowly, never letting his hand fall from the handle.

“You're a brilliant actor, Louis,” Harry says. It's quiet and Louis has to strain to hear it, but he can't bring himself to get closer. “I'll give you that. I actually thought-.” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, but he continues quickly, like he's afraid he'll change his mind again. “You had me convinced that you were actually falling in love with me.”

Louis's body wants to fold in on itself until he disappears entirely. His heart wants to yell, “I was falling in love with you! I already did!”. His brain is telling him not to listen, to walk away before he does something stupid.

“I guess I was just stupid and naive,” he continues, not moving away from the car. “There were so many signs that I ignored because I thought there was a possibility that you actually felt the same. I thought-. Hell I don't know what I thought. I thought that if you had been lying to me about something, you'd tell me and we could work through it. I figured that-.”

He cuts himself off again, laughing sardonically. “You weren't even going to come back were you?” He doesn't give Louis enough time to answer, letting out a dry laugh. “Of course you weren't. Why would you? You didn't care.”

This would be the perfect time for Louis to step in and correct him, but he knows that even if he did, Harry wouldn't believe him. And even if he did there are too many other problems to deal with that they won't ever be able to work through. 

So he stands, quietly, not bothering to correct Harry, wallowing in his own misery and wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

Harry sighs, the muscles in his back contracting. “Good-bye, Louis.” 

It's said much quieter than anything else he said. It hurts Louis the most out of everything. Yet, he doesn't say anything and he doesn't make a move as Harry climbs into the car. He thinks that if Harry were to try to run him over he'd let him, but Harry doesn't try to.

Louis watches as Harry drives away. He continues watching until he can no longer see the car. He stands there way beyond that, shivering, wrapping his arms around himself to keep him from falling apart right there.

He doesn't know how long he stays there, can't be more than a couple of minutes because when he gets back inside the lads are still there, filling up what Louis guesses is the third trailer.

He wants to yell at them for being inconsiderate enough to continue doing this, but he doesn't have it in him and as soon as they notice him walking back in the room, they all freeze, watching him as he goes back to the same table, the pieces of the vase crunching under his foot.

He grabs a small, bronze statuette bringing it up in front of his face to look at it.

“Uh, Louis,” he hears Liam says, voice coming closer. “Are you okay?”

He doesn't answer, setting the statuette back down. He places his hands on the edge of the table, knuckles immediately going white, lets his head hang down, eyes slammed shut.

The smell of smoke is what tips him off to Zayn having come closer to him. “Louis, I told you if you want to leave yo-.”

He's not being a dick about it like he was earlier. He's just letting Louis know that he can leave, doesn't have to see this through to the end. Louis doesn't care either way. Not at this point.

“Just leave me the fuck alone,” he groans. “We don't have much longer and I'm not in the mood to deal with this right now, so lets just finish here and we can go.”

“Yeah, okay, mate.”

Zayn steps away and he hears Niall and Liam start messing around again. He takes a second to compose himself before going to help them out. He stays far away from all of them, doing his best to ignore the sympathetic looks they're giving him, all the while planning on what to do when he gets done.

He needs to get away, not like away from here away, but away away. He needs out of England, as far away from Harry as possible. He can't take the chance of running into Harry on the street or of him driving himself over to Harry's to beg for forgiveness, not that he'd make it past Paul.

He's not sure where to go or what to do once he's there, but Louis's always been good at running away from his problems so that's what he's going to do. He doesn't know where he's going to go, but he's going to go somewhere and he's not going to tell anyone, either.

It only takes them around two minutes to finish filling the trailer and putting it on the truck Niall had gotten them. 

They get out before the police show up, so all they'll find is a broken vase and Louis's broken heart on the floor right next to it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things actually get worse, especially where Harry's concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple days early because I'm a impatient person and I might end up posting the next chapter in a couple of days since it's done.  
> There's a lot of violence during this chapter, so be wary.  
> As always, thanks for reading and Enjoy!

Life fucking sucks, Louis's decided. It really fucking sucks. He's halfway across the globe and he still can't stop thinking about Harry, which is really defeating the purpose of him being here.

He'd gone to Caracas because it was fucking warm and also the first flight he could get out of London. He hadn't put much thought into it since he'd just wanted out of England.

When they'd finished packing everything into the truck, Zayn had started to tell him he'd have Louis's half of the money in two days. Louis had responded with, “Keep it. I don't want it.” When Zayn had questioned him, Louis had shrugged, saying it wouldn't feel right to have it, then he'd turned around and walked to his own car, ignoring the calls after him and worried looks.

He'd stopped off at his flat, quickly packed a bag of his essentials for a few days, figuring he'd just buy anything he needed once he got to wherever it was he was going. He'd then drove to the airport and picked the first flight he could get, which just happened to be Caracas, Venezuela.

Once he'd boarded the plane, he quickly texted the lads, telling them not to look for him or he'd have their heads and added that someone needed to pay Amelia for him and that when he got back he'd reimburse whoever did it. Once he finished with the message he turned off his phone. He spent the majority of the flight crying, which earned him nasty looks from the older couple he was stuck sitting with, but he didn't have it in him to care.

He's been here for a week and a half now and he's not enjoying it at all. Having booked himself a suite in the most expensive hotel he could find, he spent the first three days in bed, alternating between crying and sleeping. He didn't eat much and he's almost positive he didn't shower at all during those three days. He probably would have stayed locked up even longer had housekeeping not knocked on his door on the morning of day four telling him it wasn't healthy to stay locked up like this and that they needed to clean the room.

Reluctantly, he'd ventured out. He's not done much of anything. There's a park – if you could call it that – close to the hotel that he spends most of his time at, people watching. Almost every person that walks by makes him think of Harry, whether they look like him or not. When he's not at the park or in his hotel he finds some sketchy little pub and drinks his sorrows away. Except it doesn't do anything about his sorrows. They stay and they're still there when he wakes up the next morning with a headache, so he drinks from the bar in his room, hoping that will help. It doesn't. 

It's a vicious cycle and it's killing him slowly, but he's got nothing else to do. He's not going to pull another job anytime soon. There's nothing that interests him and even if something did he's in no state to actually do it. So he's going to continue on with his routine until he can crawl his way out of it or it kills him, whichever comes first, he's not picky.

He just wants something to help him forget about Harry. Unfortunately, he doesn't think there is anything. At least there isn't anything that'll work long term. 

Two nights ago, when he'd been at some pub there'd been a guy, the complete opposite of Harry – short, blond, hazel eyes, and not a tattoo insight. He'd been giving Louis looks all night. Louis was relieved to know the guy was American, therefore speaking English, which was a little more comforting than it should have been, when he had finally approached Louis.

They were only able to get through taking their shirts off before Louis realized he was imaging he was with Harry. He couldn't go through with it and kicked the guy out, feeling no remorse.

Bottom line is, he's in love with Harry and probably always will be even though Harry's never going to speak to him again. Harry'd probably strap him to one of his eight hundred treadmills and watch as Louis slowly died. That'd still be less than Louis deserves.

But he's in love with Harry and nothing he's doing is making it go away. 

Life fucking sucks and he's pathetic.

On his way back to his hotel, he'd considered picking a fight with some Venezuelan teenagers he'd seen just outside the pub he was leaving. He decided against it because he didn't have his gun on him and he'd definitely be outnumbered and, while he's not completely opposed to dying or ending up in a coma, he'd rather whatever happens to him happen in an English speaking country and where someone would actually find his body and notify the lads, preferably Zayn. He deserves to know whatever bad thing happens to Louis because this whole thing is his fault.

Had he not listened to Zayn, had he not agreed to this, he never would have met Harry, wouldn't have fallen in love with Harry. He certainly wouldn't have hurt Harry like he did. 

He's never felt guilt before Harry and it's all he can feel along with his broken heart and it's all fucking Zayn's fault. Maybe he'll find someone to chop his head off and ship it to Zayn. That'll be a nice thing for Zayn to wake up too. Although, there's a chance it wouldn't make it past customs...he'll just find someone who can get around that. It shouldn't be too hard. He'll need to remember to write a note for Zayn to attach to his head. A nasty little note detailing all the things Louis hopes happens to him.

He may be drunk...like _really_ drunk, which may also explain why it's taking him so long to open the door to his room. He struggles for quite sometime, but he eventually gets the light on the door to turn green. The door opens easily after that. 

He drops his card of the table along with his wallet. Not bothering to turn on the lights – the dark is better for him he's decided – he takes a couple of steps into his room before he stops, remembering that he hadn't turned off the light before he left.

Of course, he is drunk. He could be misremembering. Or housekeeping came in. Either way it's probably nothing to worry about. As he takes another step into the room, something stops him, pushing at him.

He hits the wall with an “Oomph”, blindly reaching out to push whoever it is off him. Drinking as much as he had probably wasn't a good idea because he's uncoordinated and his senses are fucked. Of course, he didn't know he'd be attacked in his fucking hotel room either.

There's more struggling between him and his attacker, though it's mostly just Louis smacking around randomly in the dark.

“Oh for fucks sake!” the person exclaims.

It takes another minute before Louis realizes he knows that voice. He stops fighting back, reaches out to where he knows there's a lamp and flicks it on.

“What the fuck?” he breathes out, looking at a fairly unamused Paul, who's crossing his arms over his chest. “You can't just sneak up on people in the dark like that!”

“Don't tell me what I can and can't do, you piece of shit.”

Oh right. Paul would be angry with him after the whole Harry thing. _Shit_. He's here to kill Louis. Paul's here to kill him. Louis wasn't being serious before about dying and he definitely doesn't want to die at Paul's hands. He quite liked Paul.

Paul must sense his panic because his features soften, not enough to have Louis feeling comfortable with his presence here, but enough for him to stop panicking.

“Look,” Paul begins, “I'm not going to pretend that I don't know what happened with you and Harry. The kid's an open book with his emotions and he came home that night crying his eyes out. I don't think I have to tell you that I didn't like that. It took him a while, but he eventually calmed down enough to tell me what happened. I gotta say, Tomlinson, if that's actually your real name, it was very hard for me not to hunt you down and string you up by your toes.” 

He probably shouldn't engage in this conversation, should probably find a way out as quickly as possible, but he's drunk and hardly ever rational as it is.

“Then why are you here?” he prompts, taking a step away from the wall he'd been leaning against. “Come to chop my balls off or summat?”

Paul clenches his jaw. “Don't be a shit. I'm here because of Harry. He's been right miserable since you broke his heart and I-.”

“I don't care,” Louis says quickly. It's another fucking lie, but he doesn't need or want to hear about Harry. If Paul came here to punish him he'd rather he get on with it now. “If you're here to yell at me I don't care,” he continues, waving a hand behind him as he walks away from Paul. “I'm done with Harry. He was never my concern and I certainly don't care about how he is now.”

It's probably the biggest fucking lie he's ever told in his life. He'd love to know, really, but at the same time hearing it will only make it worse. Maybe that's what Paul's goal was. Hunt Louis down and force him to listen to how much he fucked up the most amazing person in the world.

Paul sighs behind him. “I was hoping you wouldn't say that,” he says, calmly, but a hand on Louis's shoulder is spinning him around. “If there's one ounce of you that even remotely cared about him I need you to find it right now.”

And that's- that's not what he was expecting. Paul doesn't really seem to want to get revenge. He seems panicked and worried and that's not how Paul is.

It's with a strong sense of dread that Louis asks, “What happened?” 

“He's been taken,” Paul answers. “I don't know by who, but he was definitely kidnapped.”

If they weren't talking about Harry, Louis would totally comment on how he hates the term kidnapped because Harry is very much an adult, but _it is_ Harry they're talking about and Louis's suddenly feeling a lot more sober than he was a moment ago.

“Well why the hell didn't you lead with that!” Paul starts to respond, but Louis cuts him off, waving a hand. “Never mind! That's not important! What happened? Why are you here?” Again, Paul starts to answer, but for the first time Louis notices the bruise around Paul's eye. “Did they attack you?”

Paul's brow furrows. “What?” he asks, but his face immediately smooths into understanding. “No. This was actually from Liam.” 

What? That's not possible, except it is, according to Paul.

“Liam?” he questions slowly, regarding Paul skeptically. 

“Yeah, who do you think helped find you?”

Nothing about this makes sense to Louis. Paul's here telling him that Harry has been kidnapped – yeah, they seriously need a better word for that – and that Liam helped track him down, but after giving Paul a black-eye. Liam wouldn't do that. Liam would never work with someone like Paul and he'd never help someone track Louis down.

Louis backs up, until he feels the backs of his legs his the sofa, and slowly lowers himself down on it. Looking up at Paul, he says, “I-I don't understand what's happening right now.”

Paul gives him a sympathetic look, which Louis doesn't think he deserves, but he's in no position to argue. “You look like shit.”

“Oh cheers, mate.”

“What the hell have you been doing?”

“Drinking, drinking and more drinking.”

“Were you drinking today?”

“There's a good chance I might be extremely drunk right now,” he says, nodding his a little too much, stopping when he gets dizzy.

Paul sighs. “We don't have time for your alcoholic issues right now.”

“Not an alcoholic.”

“You're drinking to forget,” Paul says. “Sounds to me like you have the potential, is all I'm saying.”

Louis's brow furrows. “Who says I'm drinking to forget?”

Paul rolls his eyes, crossing his arms again. “Look, we don't have time for this. We've got a more important issue to deal with.”

“Right,” Louis agrees. “But I don't understand a thing you've said to me. Could you maybe start at the beginning?”

Paul nods, going to sit on the sofa opposite Louis. “Harry hasn't been leaving the house much, so he's been working from home. Actually, I'm not even sure he's been working. Not sure what he's been doing.” He stops giving Louis a pointed look, probably to remind him that it's his fault. It works. “Anyway, he wanted something from the office and said he didn't trust anyone enough to bring it to him. Something fairly important. So he had me go. Personally, I think he just wanted me out of the house. I shouldn't have left.”

“You couldn't have known.”

Paul shrugs. “No, but when I came back the door was wide open. I searched the whole house. Harry wasn't there. I thought it was weird at first that there didn't seem to be any sign of struggle so I thought maybe the kid decided to go for a run and give me a heart attack at the same time, but I went into the security office and found a note. Said there was no stopping it this time.”

Louis's breath catches. Thinking about Harry, possibly dead, or alive being scared of what's about to happen. It's not exactly something he wanted to think about tonight.

He had, for some reason, been under the impression that after he left Harry's life would be normal again. He'd convinced himself that whatever was going on would stop – he'd _hoped_ it would stop because he didn't want to think about Harry's life being in danger and Louis not being able to protect him.

Everything is so fucked up, he thinks, leaning forward so his elbows are his knees and his head in his hands. There's a high possibility he might puke.

“The authorities are doing nothing to help because, apparently, they have better things to be doing,” Paul continues. “I don't think they've killed him yet.”

Louis's head snaps up, eyes wide. “Because if they just wanted him dead they'd have killed him in the house.”

Paul nods. “See, this is why I thought to hunt you down.”

“Uh, no. I don't see.”

“You may have lied to me and Harry about who you were and why you were really there, but you did save his life twice,” Paul explains, face hard. “I'd like to think you're not as heartless as others in your field of work. But each time you saved his life, no one else had any idea something was wrong. No one in that office knew his drink had been poisoned and you told me you had a bad feeling about the charity event and look what happened.”

Louis scoffs. “I could have set all that up for all you know.”

“I know you didn't,” he retorts. “I could tell there was a part of you that cared about him. Plus, I don't think you would have been sending death threats for months in advance. It's not really your style, is it? Planning.”

“No, not really.”

It's disconcerting how Paul seems to have a better read on him than Louis had thought, makes him wonder if Paul suspected something all along. If he did, Louis really thinks he needs to sit Paul down and have a discussion about why he never called Louis out, getting him the hell away from Harry. Now's not the time, though.

“Anyway,” Paul continues, taking a deep breath. “You're instincts seemed pretty good to me and the authorities are of no help. I figure we're dealing with people who aren't exactly in line with the law, which you are not, so I thought you'd be able to help.”

“You didn't know if I would or not,” he points out, trying to drag this out enough for him to sober up a little more before they go at this. “For all you knew, I was only pretending to care for Harry.”

Paul shrugs. “True,” he drags out. “But I had a hunch you weren't. You seemed pretty fucking miserable those last couple of days.”

Louis doesn't reply. Paul's right, he was fucking miserable and he wasn't pretending to care about Harry. Caring about Harry was the only honest thing to come out of the whole situation.

“Of course, then I realized I had no idea where you were or how to find you since I didn't know your actual name.”

“So you went to Liam,” he finishes, filling in the blanks. “How'd you find him?”

Paul clears his throat, shifting around on the sofa. “You forget that you had Harry stay at your home. I knew the address.”

Louis's eyebrows knit together. “You went snooping in my home?”

“Are ya really going to get angry over that?” Louis purses his lips, waving his hand for him to go on. “Yes, I went snooping. I'm not above doing whatever it takes to get Harry back alive. But I didn't find much. And at this point I didn't know you'd left the country. Then I remembered Horan.”

“Niall?”

Paul nods. “I knew he'd been involved. It wasn't hard to figure out even if Harry hadn't told me. But he'd come to the house one day, begging to see Harry.”

Louis snorts. Fucking figures Niall'd be able to walk right back into Harry's life.

“I didn't want to let him, but Harry came walking by. I don't know what they talked about and the conversation only lasted for a couple of minutes before he left. I looked into his file, got the address he listed and hoped that it was his actual one.”

“It was,” Louis nods, not seeing how this led to Liam punching Paul.

“He was scared to death when he saw who was at his door,” Paul says with a small smile. “I told him what had happened and he immediately went into planning how to do this. He told me you'd disappeared and none of them knew where you were.”

“He sent you to Liam?”

Paul nods, picking at his finger. “Said he was going to start asking around, see if anyone had heard anything. Then he told me to hunt down a Liam Payne because he was our best bet of tracking you down, something about how he could have done it when you'd first disappeared but didn't want to piss you off. Said he'd be skeptical of me at first, but once I'd explained he'd help, especially if I mentioned Niall.”

“He punched you,” Louis points odd, nodding his head in Paul's direction.

“He wasn't home, decided to sneak in and wait,” Paul responds. “Probably not the best idea, but when he saw that I was there some punches were thrown. Had your friend Zayn not been with him I'm sure we'd still be fighting.”

“Zayn?”

Paul nods. “He was actually the one that got Liam to listen to me.”

Right. So, everything about this is getting harder and harder to understand.

“Liam tracked you down pretty easily. And here we are.”

Louis narrows hie eyes. “You still don't know anything about Harry?”

Paul shakes his head. “No, but we'll figure it out. I've got a feeling he's still alive and that we've got some time.”

Harry still being alive isn't comforting to Louis at all because if whoever has Harry is keeping him alive it probably isn't pleasant for Harry, which is not something he wants to think about. But there is a chance Harry is still alive and that means they've got a chance to save him. And Louis will do anything for Harry, even is Harry hates his guts.

He stands, swaying a bit, and claps his hands. “Right. So we need to get back to London as quick as possible.”

Paul nods, standing himself. “I took Harry's private jet. It's ready whenever we are.”

“Good, good. I need to pack quickly.”

Louis sets about, grabbing his things and throwing them carelessly in his bag. Paul watches, quiet for the most part, every now and then checking his phone. 

Louis finishes packing in record time. With his gun tucked into his waistband and his bag slung over his shoulder, he turns to Paul.

“I'm ready.”

Paul quirks an eyebrow. “You not going to shave?” Louis tilts his head in confusion. Paul nods at his face. “Your beard. You keeping it?”

Honestly, Louis hadn't known he had a full on beard. He'd not payed attention at all. He's brings a hand up to scratch at it. He's not fond of having a full on beard, but he doesn't have the time to get rid of it.

“You think I can shave it off during the flight?” he asks, walking past Paul to the door.

“You could try, not sure how well it'd work.”

Louis shrugs, opening the door. 

His beard really is the least of his worries.

He ends up shaving it on the jet. He only cuts himself twice, but he can't bring himself to care, his thoughts more preoccupied with Harry and how he's not going to be okay if something happens to him.

**

He knew he'd be back in London at some point in his life, but he didn't think it would be this soon. And he certainly didn't think he'd be walking into his flat with Paul trailing behind him to be greeted with Niall, Liam and Zayn spread out all over the place.

Liam's in the armchair facing the door. His laptop open on the coffee table, brow furrowed in concentration. Zayn's standing, looking out the balcony door, with a cigarette in his hand. Niall is pacing the length of the room, typing away on his phone.

None of them notice him and Paul standing in the hall.

“Well, it's nice to know you all have taken up residence in my home,” he says, letting go of his suitcase.

Niall stops pacing, turning to Louis, but he's glancing sideways at Zayn and Liam. Zayn's turned away from the balcony, cigarette between his lips. Liam's looked up from his laptop. He's the only one with the decency to actually verbally acknowledge him.

“Nice to see you back,” he says, not matching his worried expression.

“What the hell are you all doing here?” he asks, stepping further into the room. “And why do all three of you look like you haven't slept in days?” he adds, eying the dark circles they all have.

“We haven't,” Liam answers.

“Actually, I think one of Liam's dark circles is from the punch I gave him,” Paul voices from somewhere behind Louis.

Liam smiles. “That's true. Yours is looking much better.”

“It's because I-.”

“What the _hell_ are you all doing here?” Louis demands, cutting Paul off.

This act of normalcy the three of them have going on when nothing about this is normal is confusing and infuriating.

“We're trying to figure what's happened to Harry,” Liam answers.

Louis freezes. 

That doesn't make sense. They just stole from him. Harry was just a job to them. Someone they only referred to by their surname. Harry wasn't a person they cared about. Though, he can understand Niall being concerned. Him and Harry had struck of a friendship that wasn't as one-sided as Niall led everyone to believe.

Still, though, this is not what he expected and if they expected him to be okay with this – to have forgiven them (he's aware they don't actually have anything to be sorry for, but goddam it they need to ask for forgiveness) – they've got another thing coming.

“I don't understand,” he says. “Why?”

Liam's face softens as he looks up at Louis. “He's obviously important to you.”

“Yeah, we all noticed months ago what was happening with you,” Zayn says, walking to the spot beside Liam's chair. “But we chose to ignore it. _I_ chose to ignore it because I wanted the job done.”

Louis scoffs. “So you're doing this because you feel guilty?”

Zayn doesn't answer, looking down at the ground. Avoiding eye contact is something he does when he knows he was wrong about something. He's only six steps away from apologizing to Louis.

“It's the right thing to do, Lou,” Liam says, voice earnest and honest. “And yes, we do feel guilty.”

“Well, _I_ feel guilty,” Niall says, moving to sit on the sofa. “But like, for a different reason.”

“Oh dear god,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes and moving back to the balcony door.

Niall's face scrunches up. “Oh shut up, Zayn. Just because you've heard this -.”

“Ten times.”

“Doesn't mean I'm not going to tell Louis,” Niall finishes, throwing a balled up piece of paper at the back of Zayn's head.

Zayn doesn't acknowledge it.

“Tell me what, mate?”

Niall scoots around so he's able to see everyone in the room, but Zayn. “Harry's a great guy. I know I kept going on about him thinking I was his friend and all, but like, I think I actually was. And for the first time in my life I actually feel guilty for screwing someone over.”

It's not what he said two weeks ago, but he was probably trying to convince himself he was okay with what they were doing. Unfortunately, they don't have the time to delve into it too much.

“That's nice,” Louis says dryly. 

They've got bigger problems to deal with than their guilt.

Turning to Liam, he says, “You said you were trying to figure out what happened to Harry. Have you?”

“You see?” Liam says over Louis's shoulder to Paul.

He glances between them. Paul looks a second away from laughing and Liam just looks proud.

“Everyone in this room is on probation.”

“Probation from what?” Niall asks.

Louis narrows his eyes. “Everything.”

Zayn turns back to them, clapping his hands together once. “So, Liam tell Louis what you've found.”

Louis about breaks his neck turning to look at Liam. “You actually know something? What is it?”

Liam's face goes from joking to serious in record time. “Well, keep in mind it isn't much to go on. But...” He trails off, typing away at his laptop.

“But?” Paul prompts, sitting next to Niall.

“But I was able to hack into the video footage from the security camera at the gate of Harry's house.” He pauses to type some more. When he finishes typing, he turns his laptop around to show Louis and Paul. “I was able to get the license.”

It's grainy, black and white footage, but the license plate is visible.

“Have you tracked it?” Paul questions, leaning forward, placing his elbows on his knees.

“I'm in the process right now,” Liam answers, turning the laptop back toward him. “It's a bit difficult because I'm having to hack a lot of things, but it shouldn't be much longer.”

“Right, so who could it be?”

Everyone in the room stares at him. 

“I'm just asking,” he says with a shrug, hoping he's not coming off as desperate as he is. “Do we have any idea who it might have been?”

“Obviously it's connected to the threats,” Niall says, rather unhelpfully.

“Thank you, Niall.”

Zayn perches himself on the arm of Liam's chair. Addressing Paul, he asks, “Do you still think it could be someone from the company?”

“It's still a possibility, yes.”

It was always a possibility. From day one, it was something Louis'd thought about. Like Paul said, it's still a possibility, but Louis's not so sure anymore.

“Niall,” he starts, “while you were there did anyone seem suspicious to you?”

“No,” he answers. “I mean, there were a few of the older people who grumbled a fair bit about Harry being in charge and all that, but not one of them seemed suspicious.”

“Yeah, well, no one pegged you for a conman,” Liam quips, never stopping his typing.

Niall scoffs at the slight against him. “That means I'm good at my job then.”

Louis's about to say something, but he's hit with an idea.

“Paul,” he says, turning away from watching Liam type. “You said you've been working as head of security for thirteen years, right?”

“Yes?”

“Why? Because as far as I know, CEO's usually don't have security teams.”

Niall sits up straight. “That's a good point.”

Paul's shaking his head. “It's not what you're thinking,” he says. “Des hired-.”

“Harry's dad?” Zayn asks.

Paul nods. “He hired me when-.” He cuts himself off with a groan. “Okay, so it's a long story.”

“We've got time,” Liam says, ceasing his typing and giving Paul all his attention.

Louis wants to say that they may not have time, but he reminds himself that they still don't know where Harry is or who has him and Paul's story may help them.

Paul takes a deep breath, rubbing his hands on his thighs. “Des had a partner at the company. Robert Rodman, his name was.”

“I didn't know he'd had a partner,” Niall voices. “No one ever said anything.”

“There's a reason for that, lad,” Paul says. “Robert Rodman helped Des start the company. They were equal partners,” he explains. “Now, they'd known each other since uni. And when Des had the idea of the company, because he lacked the funds he went to his good friend, Robert Rodman, who was from a wealthy family and had money to spare. Rodman thought the company was an ingenious idea, so he'd agreed to help Des start it on the condition that he get half. Des agreed, obviously.”

“Where do you come in?” Liam asks, leaning back in the chair, throwing a leg over the other. “Because I'm not understanding.”

“I told you. Long story.”

“Will you please sit,” Niall directs at Louis, who's just realized that he's still standing in the middle of the room.

He goes to the unoccupied armchair.

“Anyway, Rodman was a bit of a tit to be honest,” Paul continues. “Des was about the only person that genuinely liked him. Probably liked him more than Rodman's own wife, which brings me to Rodman's unhappy marriage.” Paul pauses, shifting around in his seat. “Everything was great at work. Des and Rodman had created a company like no other and were bringing in a lot of money. It was their personal lives that was the problem. Rodman had always been known as a bit of a slag.”

“Are you trying to say that Harry's father and Rodman had a thing together?”

Paul turns his attention to Liam. “Oh god, no. Des loved Anne. Apparently, so did Rodman, which is where things start getting good or bad depending on how you want to look at it.”

“She have an affair?” Zayn inquires, lighting another cigarette.

“No,” Paul answers, shaking his head. “But she started noticing that Rodman was everywhere she went. When she went with Des to an event of some sort, Rodman always hung around her more than his own wife. She never mentioned it to Des, but once Rodman actually made a move, she did. Nothing happened. Des didn't like conflict, so he'd simply walked into the office one day and told Rodman to stay away.”

“That couldn't have gone well,” Louis quips.

“Des and Anne thought it had.”

“What's that mean?”

Paul takes another deep breath. “Rodman left her alone for a while, but he started following her again, leaving her notes, sending her gifts. Naturally, she was frightened.”

Liam leans forward again. “Is this where you come in?” 

Paul nods. “Des wanted Anne to have some sort of protection. He didn't actually think Rodman would do anything, but he didn't think Rodman would try to seduce his wife either, so. Anyway, Des had a friend who was recently out of a job.”

“You were that friend,” Liam finishes, leaning back again.

“Yeah, so I was hired as Anne's protection, not Des's.”

“Why do I feel like there's more to Rodman's story?” Louis asks cautiously.

In the whole time he'd been working for Harry he'd never heard the name. It's a bit weird that one of the men that helped start the company was never mentioned.

“There is more.” Paul's features fall as he continues. “Anne got sick and passed away around a year after I was hired. Nothing of significance happened during that time, but Des, being the man that he was, decided to keep me around. His reasoning for it was that Harry had grown attached to me and since he'd just lost his mother he needed as many people around as possible.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Zayn mutters.

“I kind of think there was more going on with Des and Rodman than he let on.”

When they all give him questioning looks, Paul continues.

“Very soon after Anne died, Rodman changed. For the worst.”

“He already seemed bad to me,” he mumbles, propping his head on his arm.

“Let me ask you lads something,” Paul says, looking around the room at them. “When you were planning this job did you never come across Rodman's name?”

They all look to Zayn. All the information that they'd had for the job came straight from him, unless they wanted to do more research on their own. Louis didn't, but he has a sneaking suspicion that Liam might have.

Zayn nods. “I saw an article about him and his family dying in a car accident years ago. I think Harry must've been around twelve at that time. But he was dead, so he didn't seem relevant. That's why I don't know anything else about him.”

“I understand that,” Paul agrees. “But before his untimely death, things got pretty nasty between him and Des.”

“How so?”

Paul grins at Liam. “I was hoping you'd ask that.” He takes a second to clear his throat. “Rodman came in one day and told Des that he'd decided that when they both croaked, the company and money and whatever else was going to go to his two sons.”

“What?” Louis asks, sitting up. “What about Harry?”

“That hardly seems fair,” Liam adds.

“Des basically said the same thing,” Paul says. “Rodman wanted to leave Harry with nothing. That caused a lot of problems, you see, 'cause of course Harry's dad wanted to give Harry at least half the company. At that time, I thought enough time had passed that Harry would be okay if I left, so I had been in the process of changing jobs, but Des basically told me I wasn't leaving. That he needed me. Was never really given a reason, other than he wanted Harry protected, but I ended up being more protection for Des than anything.” 

Niall stands, turning to look at Paul. “So there were things going on you didn't know about?”

“Yes.”

“You didn't question it?”

“No,” Paul answers. “Look, I was being paid. And, yes, I was planning on taking a different job, but Harry's a good kid and at that point I had sort of started looking at him as one of my own, so no, I didn't question it.”

Niall considers him for a second, before nodding and walking to lean against the wall opposite Paul.

“What happened next?” Liam asks Paul with a worried tilt to his mouth.

“One day, at the office, I walked in on Des and Rodman having a very heated argument.” Paul takes a deep breath. “The next day the crash happened.”

He breaks off then, not saying anything else.

Louis's wracking his mind for what this could mean. If it means anything. It most likely doesn't, but either way, he's still curious. And it's not like he has anything else to be doing, since it seems Liam's waiting for the results of the scan on the license to come in.

“What are saying?” he asks.

Paul sighs. “I'm saying, that I'm not entirely sure it was an accident.”

“You think the crash was on purpose?” Liam inquires with a furrowed brow.

“I'm saying,” Paul starts,”that Rodman's regular driver called off that day. Actually, he was found in Bermuda three days later. Said he was bought off by someone who refused to give him a name.” 

“Sounds suspicious,” Niall says from his spot against the wall.

“Are you saying you think-.” 

“I'm not going to lie,” Paul says, cutting Zayn off. “Not now anyway. I do think Des had something to do with it.”

“Well, yeah,” Niall says like something's obvious, stepping away from the wall. “With Rodman and his sons gone, if something happened to him Harry got everything,” he explains, Paul nodding along the whole time.

Louis turns his attention back to Paul. “Why are you telling us this?” 

“Yeah, if Rodman's dead...” 

Paul interrupts Liam. “I'm not sure he is.”

When Paul doesn't say anything else, Louis asks, “Care to elaborate?”

“They never found his body,” Paul answers. Turning to Zayn, he adds, “Which you would've known had you read the article you found.” Zayn winces at that. “Don't worry, though. Why would you read the article? All the headlines said he was dead. And he was never seen again, so.”

Is Paul insinuating what Louis thinks he is? If Louis is thinking what Paul is thinking there's no way to prove it. But it's the only shot they have right now.

“You think he's not dead?” Liam asks Paul. When Paul nods, Liam sighs. “Why am I scared to know what that means?”

“If he's not dead,” Louis begins, everyone turning to him, “he's probably the one who's been trying to kill Harry.”

“Yeah, but why?” Liam inquires, resting his arms on his knees. “Des is dead. His beef was with Des not Harry.”

“It wouldn't matter to him,” Paul says.

Louis nods. “Yeah, if Des really was responsible for the crash, then he's responsible for Rodman's family being killed. Even if Des was dead, he'd still want revenge.”

“Think about it,” Niall begins, addressing Liam. “Harry got everything Rodman wanted for _his_ sons. Everything that he'd helped work for. And there's a chance that Rodman would have found out that Des was the one responsible for it.”

“Oh,” Liam drawls out. “I see. So it's like a revenge sort of thing?”

Paul nods. “Believe me, I know Rodman. I wouldn't put it past him to still hold a grudge and want to punish Harry for something his father did.”

“Is there any other reason you think it's Rodman?”

“I should mention,” Paul says, turning to Louis. “I wasn't completely honest with you about how many threats Harry got. Though I wouldn't say all of them were threats.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not all of them were threats. Some were just like notes,” he explains. “They were talking about Anne. And the only people who knew about Rodman's obsession with her aside from me are dead.”

“Well, here's something,” Niall says, cutting Louis off from replying to Paul. “Rodman's family died in a car crash, which was really more of an explosion, right?” When they all nod, he continues. “The first attempt on Harry's life was the car bomb.”

They all have various forms of realization on their faces, except Zayn. Zayn's still sitting on the arm of the chair, lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

“This is all well and good,” he says. “But we still don't know if it's him for sure and if it is we don't know where he's got Harry or what he's doing.”

Liam's laptop dings as soon as Zayn's finished. Liam's eyes light up, as he grabs it and starts typing. 

“We might actually,” he says. “Aha!”

“Aha what?” Niall asks, coming to stand on beside Liam, looking down at the laptop.

“The scan took so long because I was also running a system that checks traffic cams so I could already go ahead and track everywhere this car went.”

Louis stands up, moving to stand behind Niall. “And?”

“And the car belongs to someone named Don B. Romterra.”

“That's an anagram of Robert Rodman.”

Nobody questions how fast Zayn was able to figure that out.

“Where'd the car go?” Paul asks, coming to stand next to Zayn.

“Well, from what I can figure,” Liam says, typing away. “The car went several places without stopping.”

Louis's patience is wearing thin. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that they drove around a lot, probably in case they were being followed.” Liam pauses to concentrate on his typing. “I've got the car tracked to Heathrow.”

“So he took Harry out of the country?” Louis only half yells, throwing his hands up.

“Why not do whatever he's going to do here?” Niall inquires.

“Well, I don't actually think he did take Harry out of the country.”

Paul looks down at Liam, who's still typing away. “Why?”

“Because the car was a rental through the airport. He probably expected someone to track the license.”

“So he exchanged cars?”

“Yes.” Liam pauses again, focusing on his typing. 

Louis watches as things appear and immediately disappear. He doesn't have time to make anything out, which makes him wonder how Liam sees anything.

“Hot damn!” Liam exclaims as he stops typing and everything on the laptop stops. “Don B. Romterra exchanged cars. And I have a picture of him at the car rental desk.” 

Liam hits a button on the keyboard and a picture pops up. It's black and white, but in much better quality than the picture of the license plate. The picture shows a man probably in his fifties with what looks like scars from burns on the left side of his face handing a credit card to the woman at the desk. Louis's never seen the man before, but Paul's sudden intake of air doesn't bode well.

“Is it Rodman?” Liam asks, turning his head to look at Paul.

“Yes,” he answers shortly. “That son of a bitch.”

“We still don't know where he's taken Harry,” Zayn reminds them.

“Liam,” Louis says, leaning forward to look at the picture. “He's got a credit card or something.” He points to it on the screen. “Do you think you can zoom in and get the number off it and run it? See if he's rented any warehouses or at least find out what car he has now?”

“Give me a minute.”

Liam starts typing again, faster than Louis's ever seen him type. He glances at the others. Niall's got his phone out again and Zayn looks like he could fall asleep at any minute, but Paul's watching Liam with awe.

“Bet the government would love to have him,” he mutters as Liam gets the number off the card and puts it into some program of his.

“They did,” Zayn tells him.

Paul turns to him with a cocked eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says in a hushed voice. “He didn't like the kind of thing they were having him do, so he left and started doing this for a living.”

It's not something they talk about, their back stories. You never ask and you never expect to be told if you ask. You can know someone in this business for fifty years and never learn a bit about their story. It's an unspoken rule that Louis didn't understand at first, but the longer he's in this business the better he gets it. 

It's a trust thing. The more you reveal about yourself to a person the better a chance they have of finding your vulnerability an screwing you over.

So, Louis's a bit surprised that Zayn so easily told Paul about Liam. It's a tiny bit of information, only a fraction of the story that Liam's told them and they still don't know the whole story. Liam may have trusted them enough to tell them the gist of it and he may trust Paul enough to help him track down Louis, but another unspoken rule in this business is to not tell someone else's story.

Liam doesn't seem phased by it, though, or he didn't hear because he's still typing away on his laptop, never faltering. Eventually, his typing slows and he starts speaking again.

“The card belongs to Don B. Romterra,” he says. Turning to Zayn he adds, “And I heard that.”

“You told him about Paris,” Zayn counters with.

“Only because I was explaining to him why you were so stroppy about the whole Harry/Louis thing.”

Neither of them seem upset with the other. They're just discussing, Louis can tell, but why either of them thought telling Paul of all people about the other's life was a good idea is beyond him. He doesn't know what happened for either of them to trust Paul with things like this.

“What the hell happened while I was gone?” Louis asks.

Liam turns to him to answer, but Paul cuts him off. “There'll be plenty of time for that later, lads, but can we get back to this.” He points at Liam's laptop, drawing their attention back to it.

“I'm assuming,” Liam begins, “this is the alias he's taken up for the last few years. The last activity on the card was four days ago to rent out a – well that can't be right.” Liam leans forward, eyes narrowed, to look at his laptop screen. 

“What can't be right?” Niall asks him, also leaning forward.

“The last activity on the card was from four days ago to rent out a warehouse in the same complex as the one that Harry's is in.”

“Great,” Louis says, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “We know exactly where to go.”

“Why can't that be right?” Zayn asks, reaching over Liam's head to stop Louis from walking out.

Louis glares at him. “Why does it matter?”

“It does, Louis.”

“It matters because,” Liam says, clicking a couple of things on the laptop. “An hour before that the same card rented out six other warehouses in that complex as well as seven warehouses in five other complexes.”

“Jesus Christ,” Niall groans.

“He's expecting people to come looking for Harry,” Paul says.

“Should we split up and look then?” Louis suggests walking away.

“Louis, that's forty-nine buildings we'd have to look through,” Zayn tells him. “And I don't think we should split up. It's too dangerous. We don't know what we're up against.”

“But-.”

“But, Zayn's right,” Liam tells him, Niall and Paul nodding along.

Paul walks up to him, resting a hard on his shoulder. “I know – I can _tell_ – that you care about him, but running in half-cocked isn't going to help Harry.”

Paul's right. For once in his life, no matter how much Louis's dying to do just that, he's going to do it the proper way. He doesn't want to risk Harry getting hurt or worse.

Louis deflates, letting out a deep breath. “You're right, but we've still got to come up with a plan.”

“I might have one,” Liam says, eyes still focused on his laptop.

Paul drops his hand from Louis's shoulder and turns to Liam. “And that plan is?”

“Security cameras,” Liam answers. He looks up with a smile, still typing. “Every single one of these complexes has security cameras, so I'm hacking the footage of the gates to these places. And I'm going to watch for the car that he rented at the airport. The new one,” he clarifies, looking back at his laptop. “And I'm going to start with the complexes with the least around them. If he's planning on doing something horrible to Harry he wouldn't want to chance someone stumbling in on it or hearing it, you know.”

Louis feels a bit queasy at the idea of what Rodman could be doing to Harry. He has to grip the back of his empty chair so he doesn't fall over.

“How long do you think it'll take?” Paul asks.

“No clue. There's seven complexes. And once I find the right one, I'll have to hack the cameras inside the gates so I can find the right building.”

“I hate to be _that_ guy,” Niall says, stepping away from Liam's chair. “But how do we know Harry's still alive? It's been four, almost five days. Do you really think Rodman would have kept him alive this long?”

Louis slams his eyes shut, fingers digging into the back of the chair. He doesn't want to think about this, but Niall has a point.

“If he wanted to make him suffer, yeah,” he hears Zayn answers.

He hears Liam hum in agreement. “He paid for these buildings for a week, so I think it's a good chance Harry's still alive.”

“Lou, you all right?”

Louis opens his eyes. Niall's standing in front of him, concern dancing around his face.

Louis nods. “Yeah, just you know.”

Niall nods like he does. Louis doubts it, but then again you never know with Niall.

“Oh,” Liam says from behind Niall. “That was easier than I thought.”

“You found the one?” Paul asks, going to stand next to him again.

“It is actually the same complex as Harry's. A couple buildings down from his actually,” he answers, tilting his head. “Do you think it's just a coincidence?”

“A pretty massive one, but yeah,” Zayn says, Paul nodding in agreement.

Niall turns back to face Liam. “So what's the game plan?”

**

They'd had an argument before they left. Liam didn't think Louis was fit to take part in Operation Save Harry (Niall's name for it, not his). He'd argued that Louis's feelings for Harry would lead to him making rash decisions, which would be bad for everyone involved. He'd told Liam to stop worrying so much and that everything would be fine, which had resulted in them arguing for fifteen minutes until Paul stepped in and said everyone was going because Louis was reckless enough to do something stupid if he wasn't involved.

So, they'd all ended up going, piling into Niall's Cadillac Escalade. After they'd stopped to get weapons that Louis insisted they needed with little protest, they'd decided on the way to the complex that they were going to have to be strategic about this. All the warehouse units are different, Liam had found out. Some of the units are just one large open area, others have actual rooms and second stories. Rodman's happens to be the latter.

Liam and Zayn had thought this was good for them because it meant they could split up and come at Rodman from all sides.

Louis and Paul had both disagreed. It'll be harder to find Harry and if they should happen to get attacked before they meet up bad things could happen.

Niall said he'd been torn, that there were pros and cons, and they shouldn't start making plans until they could see blueprints of that particular building, which is how they've found themselves squished together around the hood of the Escalade.

“I'll never understand how you manage to break into these places so easily,” Niall says to Liam as he spreads out the blueprint.

“Lucky I guess,” Liam shrugs. “I was worried they wouldn't have individual prints, but they did.”

“I can't see a damn thing,” Zayn mutters from Niall's other side.

Louis rolls his eyes. He takes out his phone and turns the torch on. “Happy?”

“Not particularly,” he mumbles in return.

“Okay, so,” Liam begin, drawing their attention. “There are two ways in and out of the unit. The front, here.” He points to a place on the print. “And the back way, here,” he adds pointing to another spot.

Paul surveys the map, saying, “This place is twice as big as Harry's even if you don't consider the second floor.”

Liam nods. “Unfortunately. We will have to split up.”

“Of course,” Louis nods. “I don't think we should all go alone, though.”

“I agree,” Niall and Zayn say at the same time.

Liam nods. “Yeah. Tommo, you got a plan?”

Louis, taken aback, blinks at Liam. “What?”

“I'm asking you what the plan is.”

“We figure you've usually been right when bad situations go down,” Zayn speaks. “And we're here because we got you into this mess. I got you into this mess and I know I give you a lot of shit for being reckless and everything, but when it comes to something or someone you really care about you do exactly what you need to even if it does involve planning.”

Wow.

Zayn's just skipped to step five of his Six Step Plan to Apologizing – complimenting Louis and handing over the planning to him. If he wasn't so concerned about Harry he'd tease Zayn for it.

“Right,” he nods slowly. “Okay.”

He motions for Liam to switch him spots so he can get a better view of the blueprint. He studies it for a second, noting the entrances that Liam pointed out. 

“Alright,” he begins. “As Liam already pointed out there are doors here and here,” he says pointing to the doors. He moves his finger to point at the stairs. “The way up to the second floor is these stairs here and only these stairs.”

“That's a bit shit,” Niall comments.

“Yeah, but it could work to our advantage,” he responds. 

He falls silent, looking at the map and thinking. He's got to come up with a quick and efficient way to do this. One mistake and it all goes wrong.

“Alright, listen up,” he says when he's finally got something. “We don't know how many people are in there or if they're armed. I'd bet my life that they are, so we need to plan for that.” He turns his head to the left to address Liam. “Liam, these people have never seen you, so you're going to go through the front by yourself. Go in under the guise that you're unarmed. If there's someone there, act like you work here and need to check something or whatever. I don't care. Take them out if possible, then proceed.”

Liam nods. “I can do that, but what if I can't take them out?”

“Play along.”

Liam nods in confirmation. Louis can tell he's already working on his cover story if he needs it.

“Niall, you'll follow Liam in,” he continues. “There's a good possibility these people will recognize you, so be careful. Follow after him only when you know it's safe. The two of you will cover the front half of this unit. There are several smaller rooms in that area. We have no idea where they have Harry.”

Liam and Niall both nod, grinning at each other.

“Zayn and Paul, you'll enter through the back with me. Paul you'll take the stairs directly in front of the entrance and cover the second floor by yourself. Can you do that?”

Paul crosses his arms over his chest. “What do you think, lad?”

Louis smiles at him. “Good to know.” Turning to Zayn, he points to the map again. “The back entrance opens up into an open room and there are two halls off it going down either side of the building. We'll split up for that.”

“Okay,” Zayn nods. “What do you want us to do if we run into trouble?”

“I don't care as long as you all and Harry don't get hurt,” he answers. “Try to be discrete with whatever you do, though. And be careful. Like I said we don't know what's in there.”

“And if we find Harry?” Liam asks.

Louis sighs. “Get him the hell out as quick as you can, then send a group message letting us know. We'll meet up here, unless things get too ugly. Then however many of you are back here needs to get out.”

“What constitutes too ugly?” Zayn wonders, meeting Louis's eye.

“Use your own judgment.”

Zayn nods, glancing at Niall. “Where are your keys?”

“Still in the ignition.”

“Good.”

“Okay, are we ready?”

He gets a chorus of “yes” before he pushes himself away from the Escalade. Liam grabs the prints, rolling them back up.

“I'd say we should all take pictures of this with our phones, but...” he trails off looking up at the night sky.

He turns away quickly, opening the passenger door on the Escalade and throws the prints in the seat. Niall is rummaging around in the backseat, grabbing the bag of weapons they'd stopped to get from his.

“I'll never understand why you have so much of this stuff,” Liam comment as Niall sets the bag where the blueprint had been, earning a swat on the arm from Niall.

“I like me weapons,” he answers, opening the bag up. “Everyone take what you want.”

Unsurprisingly, Paul grabs one of the biggest guns in the bag.

“Why in the hell do you have an automatic shotgun?”

Niall shrugs. “Never know when you'll need it.”

“Fair enough,” Paul concedes, looking over the gun.

“You know how to shoot that thing?” Zayn asks, sidling up next to him.

Paul gives him an affronted look. “'course I do, lad. Probably know how to shoot everyone of those in there. The question is, do you know how to shoot?”

Zayn gives Paul an equally affronted look. “Yes.”

Paul smiles at Zayn, then turns back to the bag, grabbing a machine pistol and a silencer.

Zayn himself has his own personal handgun and is grabbing an assault riffle. “Niall I am a little worried as to why you have so many military grade weapons.”

Niall shrugs again, reaching into the bag to grab a double shoulder holster. He shrugs off his jacket, handing it to Liam. He quickly pulls on the holster, then starts loading it up.

“I wish I could carry the automatic,” Liam pouts. 

“I think they'd be a bit suspicious of you if you walked in carrying one,” Louis comments, grabbing his own gun from his waist band. 

He looks around in the bag for another machine pistol. He finds one, checks to make sure it's loaded and places it where his own was. He rummages inside the bag for another silencer and applies it to his gun. He's about to turn away, but something in the bag catches his eye.

“Why would we need a flare gun?”

Niall looks at him, pulling his jacket back on to hide his holster. “No idea, but I figure it didn't hurt.”

“And smoke bombs?” Zayn says, reaching into the bag and pulling one out.

“Smoke grenades,” Niall corrects.

“Okay. Why do we need smoke grenades?”

“I brought five. One for each of us,” Niall says. “Those I definitely think we should take.”

Zayn considers it for a second, then nods, pocketing it. They all do the same.

Niall, Liam and Paul have already loaded up and turned away from the car. Louis starts to follow, but Zayn's grabbing him by the elbow to stop him.

“You're not taking anything more than a couple of handguns,” he comments. “There are a couple of more shotguns in there,” he adds, glancing at the bag.

Louis shakes his head. “I'm no good with those. Feel more comfortable with something smaller.”

Zayn looks like he wants to argue, but he drops Louis's arm and walks to join the others. 

Louis closes the bag back up and sets it back in the car before joining them.

They walk to the unit in silence, only exchanging “good lucks” when they slit up.

As they get closer to the back door, Louis's anxiety builds. His skin is itching, he's got a mild sweat going, and his mind is betraying him with thoughts of how things could go wrong.

With Zayn and Paul on either side, they reach the back door. Louis slowly reaches for the handle, turning when he's got a grip on it. Nothing happens.

“It's locked,” he says, dropping his hand and turning to Zayn and Paul.

“No shit,” Zayn responds. “Can't imagine why.”

“Can either of you pick a lock?”

Louis turns his attention to Paul. “I can, but it takes me twice as long as it does Zayn.”

Zayn snorts, handing Louis his gun. “Hold this,” he says, pulling out a his lock pick set from his back pocket. “Glad I grabbed this.” 

Then he sets to work.

Louis and Paul position themselves on either side of Zayn, occasionally looking around to make sure they aren't caught.

“Paul,” Louis whispers over Zayn, who's now crouched down. “You'll go in first. We'll give you two minutes to get up the stairs, then we're coming in.”

Paul says, “Right” at the same time Zayn's standing and saying, “Got it.”

He pockets the kit, reaching to take his gun back from Louis. “Wish we knew what was in there.”

“We're about to find out,” he replies, nodding for him to move out of the way to let Paul closest to the door. “Remember the plan,” he reminds Paul as he's placing his hand on the doorknob.

“You know,” Paul starts, “if we get Harry and we all make it through this, I might stop trying to convince him to turn you all in.”

Before Louis can respond, Paul opens the door and slips through. He glances down at his watch to start timing two minutes, then looks up at Zayn.

“Harry didn't give the police names?”

“Didn't report at all,” Zayn answers. “Though, I do suspect Paul's been trying to convince him otherwise.”

Louis heart sinks to his stomach. He's not sure what that means, that Harry wouldn't report. He knows the art collecting was mostly something Harry kept up because of his father, but Harry did like it. He did care about it. To have half of it stolen by Louis and his friends has got to bother him in some way. So yeah, it has to mean something, but he doesn't know what and he doesn't have the time to think about it now.

“How'd you know Don B. Romterra was an anagram so quickly?” he wonders as they're getting in position to go inside, ignoring what Zayn's just told him.

“Tell me, Lou, how many Romterra's do you know?”

“Ah, good point.” He looks down at his watch just as the two minute mark passes. “You ready?”

“As I'll ever be.”

Louis nods, reaching to the side to open the door. Zayn goes in first, pointing his gun, Louis following just a second later.

They're met with silence and very little light. It's hard to see very far into the room, but he can tell they're alone, which means Paul got up to the second floor okay.

He kicks the door shut behind him. “I don't know if it's good that there's no one in here.”

“We'll find out.”

Louis glances around the room again, seeing the two hallways. “You go right, I go left?”

“Yeah,” Zayn nods. “Good luck.”

He spins on his heel, making his way to the right hallway. Louis takes a deep breath, moving to where the left hallway starts. Before he walks into it, he listens. The only sound he hears is the buzzing of the light above him.

“Come on, Harry. Make this easy,” he says under his breath as he starts walking down the hall.

He stays close to the right side, going slowly. There's nothing in the hall, except for a couple of dead bugs, and the farther down it he goes the darker it gets. It's only mildly disconcerting. 

He's not sure how long he's been walking for, but the hall is almost completely dark and he can see the end of it. This hall forks off into two other halls.

_Damn it_.

He doesn't know which way to go or if someone else has already gone one of those two ways, but he's got to make a decision quick because he's coming up on the fork.

Just as he's nearing the end of his hall, he freezes.

He can hear someone moving just around the corner to his right. He quickly gets against the wall, listening. The footsteps are coming closer, albeit slowly. He's got two options. One, leap around the corner with the element of surprise and risk being shot or two, stay right here with the element of surprise when the person turns the corner lessening his chances of being shot.

Louis chooses option one. He gets a tighter grip of his gun and jumps around the corner as quietly as he can. The man is much closer than Louis had thought, but it works to his advantage because he's got the barrel of the gun pointed right between the man's eyes.

“Don't even think about yelling,” Louis warns in a low growl.

“Jesus Christ, Louis,” an exasperated voice says.

Louis freezes, eyes wide. It takes him a second because the lighting is basically nonexistent at this point, but standing in front of him with Louis's gun pointed at him is Zayn. He looks unimpressed and unconcerned that Louis nearly killed him.

“Surprised you didn't go with your usual approach of shoot now ask questions later,” he comments. “Though, I am glad for it.”

Louis, realizing he's still got his gun pointed at Zayn, drops his hand. “I could have killed you,” he says.

Zayn rolls his eyes in response. “Guess we're back together,” he says, lowering his own gun that Louis didn't notice was pointed at his chest.

“Only one way to go from here,” he replies, waving his free hand in the direction neither of them came from.

They each nod before going into the hall that's just one step away from being pitch black.

“Wish we did have pictures of the blueprint,” he hears Zayn mutter after a minute. “This place is a fucking maze.” 

“Is it even a warehouse?”

Zayn stops walking, giving Louis an incredulous look. “What?”

“I didn't think warehouses were this big,” he shrugs, waving the hand holding his gun to get Zayn to start walking again.

“Well, I'll tell you what,” Zayn says, following along after him. “When we get out of here I'll make sure to look up the proper definition of a warehouse for you.”

Louis opens his mouth to say something snarky, but the sound of muffled gunfire has him shutting his mouth.

“Where's that coming from?” Zayn questions, coming to a stop next to him.

“Upstairs,” he answers.

“Should we help him out?” 

Fuck. He'd almost forgotten about Paul.

Someone should help, but Louis's not sure they have the time or man power to. Not to mention if someone is firing a gun that means Romterra and whoever he's got here know about them.

“Probably, but he's experienced. He can get out on his own.”

Zayn gives him a look like he wants to argue, but he nods, says, “Every man for himself at this point,” and follows after Louis. 

They continue down the hallway in silence. The lighting's getting better and the sounds of the guns get softer and softer as they go. 

After a while of finding nothing in the hall, Louis can see the end. It looks like it opens up into a larger room that must be somewhere near the center of this building. There's brighter light coming from in there, but it's still silent.

When they reach the end of the hall, they both stop on either side, backs against the wall. Zayn gives a slight nod, motioning for him to scope out the room.

As carefully as he can, Louis peaks around the edge of the wall. There's a balcony on the second floor overlooking the room, which is empty except for a chair in the middle of the room and a couple of tables.

When Louis lets his eyes rest on the chair, his heart stops. 

“Harry,” he whispers.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Zayn perk up at that, carefully peaking around the wall on his side.

His back is to Louis, but it is most definitely Harry. Most definitely Harry strapped to the chair, he can tell by his hair and the slouch of his shoulders. He's not moving at all, his head bent to the side, and it's hard to tell since Louis's looking at him from behind, but he's sure Harry is breathing.

Taking another second to scan the room again, he sees there's no one in there, so he jogs into the room, barely aware of Zayn's disapproving sigh.

When he reaches Harry, he crouches down, placing his free hand on Harry's thigh. Harry's unconscious, but he is breathing, albeit labored breathing. It only does a little to calm Louis considering Harry's overall appearance. He's pale, dark circles under his eyes. There are multicolored bruises scattering his arms and his once light blue dress shirt is covered in dirt and dried blood and ripped in places. There's a cut over his eye that's scabbed over with dry blood down the side of his face.

“Harry,” he breathes out, carefully bringing his hand up to his face to cradle it.

Harry doesn't respond, doesn't twitch. It sends another spark of worry and anger through him. He starts scanning over Harry's body, his hand trailing down his chest to look for any of injuries.

“Louis, we need to get out of here,” he hears Zayn say from behind Harry. “I think this is a trap.”

Louis looks up to tell Zayn to fuck off and that he's got to make sure Harry's okay before trying to move him, but just as Zayn finishes the sentence a big, balding man comes up behind Zayn, pointing an automatic gun at his back. The barrel is probably touching Zayn because he freezes and drops his own gun.

“Shit,” Louis mutters, grabbing a better hold of his gun, but before he can do anything he hears someone step behind him and he's got a gun pressed to his head.

“Don't even think about it,” a deep voice is saying, then the gun is being taken away and the man is stepping around to face Louis. “Drop it,” he says, nodding at Louis's gun. “And stand up.”

Louis does as he's told, setting the gun at Harry's feet and standing with his arms raised above his head.

“You got anything else, boy?”

Louis purses his lips at being called boy. It takes everything in him not to comment on it as he slowly reaches around his back, grabbing the extra gun out of his waistband and slowly lowering it to the floor.

When he straightens back up he sees three more men have entered the room. None of them look familiar, but they're all big, bulky men with guns.

This might be worse than Sao Paulo, Louis thinks looking at Zayn who's got a gun in his back. At least with Sao Paulo he was the only one in danger until Liam got involved, but now every one he knows and cares about is in danger.

He's calmer now than in Sao Paulo. There's nothing he can do right now. They're all going to either die or make it out. He doesn't know, but it's hard to worry about what's going to happen in ten minutes when you've got a gun pointed at you. And at least he's found Harry, even if the goal was to get him out alive. He's still found him and that counts for something. There's still time to get him out.

No one is saying anything as the man pointing his gun at Louis is motioning for him to move away from Harry. He does reluctantly, keeping his eyes trained on Harry.

Just as Louis starts to ask where Rodman is, he comes walking into the room from behind Zayn. In person, the burn scar on his face is more noticeable and his eyes are a lot more piercing than Louis would have thought. He's not visibly armed, but Louis can see the guards – is that what you'd call them – relax at his presence.

“Well, well,” Rodman starts as he comes to a stop between Zayn and Harry. “What have we here? Zayn Malik and Louis Tomlinson. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

At the sound of his and Zayn's names Louis freezes, bringing his full attention to Rodman. He almost expected Rodman to know his name, since he was acting as Harry's bodyguard, but he's surprised that he knows Zayn's.

“I'm assuming you have Liam Payne and Niall Horan hidden away somewhere,” he continues with a smirk, confusing Louis even more. “Come on out lads.”

At that, Niall and Liam are being forced into the room by more guards. Liam's shirt is ripped over, revealing a bloodied slash across his chest. Niall's jacket is gone, his holster empty and a cut underneath his jaw. He's struggling more than Liam, but when his eyes meet Louis's he calms, a worried expression taking over.

Liam's searching the room, taking in both Zayn and Louis. Louis can see the exact moment that Liam realizes that Paul is probably their only chance out of here because he very quickly glances up to the balcony of the second floor.

“How do you know who we are?” Zayn asks, daring to take a step toward Rodman.

Rodman turns to him. His back is facing Louis, but he'd bet his life Rodman was still smirking. “Figured you'd be the one asking the questions, Mr. Malik. Seems I was right.”

“Are you going to answer me?”

“In time, Mr. Malik.” He turns back around, taking a few steps toward Harry. “I was so hoping young Harry here would be awake for this.”

Louis's jaw clenches when Rodman rests his hands on Harry's shoulders. “What have you done to him?” he demands, not taking his eyes away from Harry.

“Nothing too bad,” Rodman answers. “Bloodied him up a bit, but that's all.”

“You haven't fed him,” Liam comments.

“No, Mr. Payne. I have not.”

“I don't understand,” Zayn says. Louis can see in his peripheral vision that Zayn takes another step forward. “Why haven't you killed him yet? What's your plan?”

“The plan wasn't to kill him,” Rodman answers, gaining Louis's attention. “Not immediately anyway,” he adds, smiling at Louis. “And now I also get the four of you.”

Louis narrows his eyes. It wouldn't be completely out of the question for Rodman to know of one or two of them since he seems to have been living underground for the last however many years, but for him to know all of them, that's weird.

“Care to start at the beginning?”

And if Louis didn't know any better he'd think Zayn was the one in charge with the conceding nod Rodman gives him, but Louis does know better. He can see the gun still pointed firmly in Zayn's back and the way Zayn's eyes are constantly darting around the room. He's buying time.

And maybe Rodman knows. There's a large possibility he does, so he's playing into it to make Zayn think they've got a way out of this. Or he doesn't. Louis's having a hard time reading Rodman, especially since he noticed Harry's fingers twitched a moment ago.

“I suppose you all know my past history with Des Styles,” Rodman begins. When they all nod, except for Niall, who's staring straight at Louis, Rodman continues. “Well, Des tried to have me and my family killed in a car crash.”

“Obviously that didn't work,” Zayn says. “At least, you didn't die.”

“No,” Rodman shakes his head. “I didn't, but my two sons and my wife did. A passerby was able to pull me out of the car, but not before this happened.” He motions to the scar on his face. “I suspected for a long time that Des would try something, especially since I told him I wanted to cut Harry here out of the company. It wasn't hard for me to put two and two together.”

“But they reported you were dead even though they couldn't find a body,” Zayn wonders resting his eyes on Rodman.

“One of the EMT's happened to be a friend of mine. I had him and a couple of his buddies help fake it.”

“Obviously this is a revenge sort of thing,” Louis starts, surprising everyone. “So why wait this long to do something about it?”

Rodman considers his answer for a moment. “I wanted Des to think I was dead. It took me sometime to recover from everything that had happened, but I knew I was going to get Des back somehow.”

Louis spares another glance at Harry. His head is no longer on his shoulder, but hanging toward the floor in front of him and his breathing has picked up.

He turns his attention back to Rodman. “There were years, though. Between all that and his death.”

Rodman sighs. “Very true. Unfortunately, I got held up. I've got Mr. Payne here to thank for that.”

Liam's forehead wrinkles as he asks, “What have I got to do with it?”

“You were working for the government at the time,” Rodman explains. “Everyone thought I was dead, I had no access to my money. I couldn't very well walk into the bank and withdrawal from Robert Rodman's account, now could I? So I was tapping into it. Wireless transactions, you know. I will admit I got a bit out of control with that.”

Liam's face lights up in recognition. “You were the one tapping into the government's funds.”

Rodman smiles. “Yes, but you put a stop that, didn't you? I had to flee the country. Spent sometime in America. Had to make sure it was safe for me to come back. By the time that happened, Des had died and I was in Brazil where you come in again, Mr. Payne.”

Louis does the math in his head. Around the time Des died, Louis himself was in Brazil. 

“It's also where I first became acquainted with you, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis's head snaps up. He's met with Rodman's sinister smile. “I don't-. You were there?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

Louis doesn't remember. 

“The CEO of the company you were trying to fuck over was an old friend of mine I had been staying with. When he found out who you really were and why you were there he told me,” Rodman explains. “Louis Tomlinson. I'd heard your name once before. Yours and Mr. Malik's after your whole Paris ordeal.”

Louis sees Zayn's jaw tighten, his hands drawing up into fists.

“I was quite surprised that you'd managed to get yourself caught because of a good fuck.”

“You don't know anything,” Louis growls, clenching his own fists.

Rodman hums. “Maybe not, but I was still surprised to see you protecting Harry and then I caught a glimpse of Mr. Horan and Mr. Payne.” 

Louis starts to take a step toward him, but he's immediately being pulled back by a hand on his elbow and a gun is being pointed in his lower back.

“Since Sao Paulo, I've heard of you on and off and the things you've done. I've got friends, you see, that keep me updated. Quite an accomplished career you lads have.” 

Rodman takes a breath, then moves to the other side of the room. Turning to address them all, he says, “With Des dead I thought I'd missed my chance of revenge, but then I remembered Harry. And how much Des loved him.”

“So you decided to take out your revenge on him,” Niall finishes, getting surprised looks from Liam and Zayn.

Niall's been quiet the whole time. It's the first time he's given any indication that he's even paying attention.

“Correct, Mr. Horan,” Rodman says with a clap. “People keep getting in the way, though. And when I saw Tomlinson, I knew something was up. And I saw you,” he say pointing at Niall, “ with Harry and then Mr. Payne, so I started looking into it.” 

He pauses, walking back toward Harry. “I figured if I had professional con-men protecting him it would be harder for me. Then I got an idea.”

“You could take us out as well,” Zayn says with narrowed eyes.

“Plenty of people want you all dead.”

“And you'd get all the glory.”

“Yes,” Rodman hums, clasping his hands. “I'd given up on that, though, once Tomlinson fled the country.”

“I didn't flee,” Louis defends. “I was taking a leave of absence.”

“But I got you back here,” he says, turning back to Louis. “I hadn't actually expected you to have developed feelings for Harry, but it was so painfully obvious he had for you. It was only a shot in the dark you'd come to save him. But I was right and here we are. Too bad things are going to end worse than they had in Sao Paulo.”

Louis's fingernails are painfully digging into the palm of his hands. He's in the process of moving forward to do whatever it is he can to Rodman, but he's stopped when he sees movement on the balcony.

It's Paul.

He's crouching down, looking between the railing. He's got his gun pointed at Rodman, but there's no way he could get a clean shot off. Not to mention, as soon as he pulls the trigger Rodman's guards will do the same.

“So what's the plan?” Louis asks, hoping to buy them more time. “Plan on killing us and leaving our bodies here? You know they have ways to track this back to you. We did.”

Zayn's giving him a questioning look over Rodman's shoulder. Louis makes eye contact with him, then looks up at Paul. Zayn raises an eyebrow, but looks up. His eyes widen slightly when he sees Paul, but he recovers quickly, slightly nodding at Louis.

“I don't much care for what happens to these three,” Rodman answers, waving a hand behind him. “And I really only care about you because of Harry.”

“You're a fucking dick,” a raspy voice says causing Louis's heart to leap into his throat. 

Everyone's eyes snap to Harry. He's struggling to keep his head up, but he's glaring at Rodman so intensely that Louis's sure if looks could kill every single person in the room would be dead.

“Perfect timing, Harry,” Rodman smiles. “Losing your children is a terrible thing. Even worse when you know they suffered.”

Louis doesn't like the sound of this, but he's too focused on the way that Harry's head keeps drooping to fully consider what Rodman's implying.

“You don't have children, Harry, but you do care about Louis.” 

Harry's brow furrows and he strains against the straps for a second before giving up. Louis subconsciously goes to take a step in Harry's direction, but the hand on his elbow tightens and the gun is shoved further into his back.

Rodman crosses the room, crouching down in front of Harry. “I will make you suffer like your father made me,” he grits out, quiet enough for Louis to have to strain to hear it. “He's going to be begging for death before I finish with him,” he adds, causing Louis's eyes to widen and his pulse to quicken.

Harry levels Rodman with a look. “Go ahead. Do whatever. Why would I care?”

For what seems like the fiftieth time that night, Louis's heart drops. Maybe he shouldn't be as surprised as he is, considering he did lie to Harry for months about who he was and what he was really doing. Harry probably thought Louis was lying about his feelings for him too. It would make sense for Harry not to care about him, to have wiped his hands clean of all things Louis. It doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt.

“You son of a bitch!” Zayn yells, being held back by two guards.

Rodman stands quickly, turning his attention to Zayn, leaving Harry alone, who's turned pleading eyes to Louis. Louis, who's still reeling from his realization that Harry doesn't care about him, catches Niall's eye. 

He seems to be unaffected by all of this. In high pressure situations he usually does appear to be the calmest person in the room, but secretly freaking out inside. Though, he's giving Louis a weird look. His eyebrows are raised, mouth shut tight and he keeps looking at Harry, then back at Louis raising his eyebrows even more.

Louis cocks an eyebrow at him, but turns his attention back to Harry. He's still staring at Louis. His eyes are glistening with unshed tears and his mouth is drawn into a tight frown. He looks like he's in agony, but he still doesn't get what Niall's trying to tell him.

He looks back up at Niall. From across the room he can see Niall roll his eyes, then he's jerking his head at Harry, mouthing something that looks like, “he's flying”.

“What?” Louis mouths back at him.

And then it hits him. 

_Lying_.

Harry's lying. That makes sense. Harry thought if he acted as if he didn't care about Louis it would spare him whatever Rodman had planned. His heart swells to twice his size and he turns his gaze back to Harry. Harry does care about him. Maybe actually-.

He doesn't get to finish his thought because Zayn starts yelling again. 

“He saved your bloody life! He nearly died for you!”

“Zayn,” Louis warns.

Zayn turns murderous eyes on him, but softens when he sees the look Louis's giving him.

“Thanks for your little outburst, Mr. Malik,” Rodman says dryly. “But I had something planned. Whether Harry is telling the truth or not I will find out.”

Louis watches as Harry's face falls.

Rodman clears his throat and Louis's being forced to his knees.

“I am going to enjoy this,” Rodman comments walking over to one of the tables. Louis can't see him, but he hears the clang of metal and the sound of rummaging. “Ah,” Rodman breathes. “I'll start with this.”

In front of him, Zayn starts. “You fucking bastard!” he yells, trying to break free of the guards.

Louis closes his eyes as another guard comes to hold him on his left side. There's no way he's getting out of this without being hurt. He takes a deep breath, trying to anchor himself.

When he opens his eyes, Rodman is kneeling in front of him with a box cutter. “Start small, work our way up, yeah?”

Before Louis can blink, there's a sharp, searing pain starting on the left of his abdomen and ending on the right. It's not the worst pain he's ever felt, but it's got him gasping once before he clamps his mouth shut.

“Painful, isn't it?” Rodman says quietly. “Wait until I get the pliers.”

There's another sharp, stabbing pain above his right hip. Rodman places his free hand on Louis's shoulder and leans in close.

“You will be screaming before I'm done with you,” he whispers into Louis's ear, then he twists the box cutter before pulling it out.

His hand clamps down on Louis's shoulder and he thrusts the blade back into Louis's skin, drawing a groan from Louis.

“Fuck,” he breathes out when Rodman pulls the blade out.

Rodman lets go of his shoulder and he lets his head fall back. Closing his eyes, he takes deep breaths, each one causing the cut across his stomach to sting. The cuts aren't that deep because the blade was so small, but they're still bleeding, soaking Louis's shirt with blood.

He can hear Rodman messing around with things on the table again. When he opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling, he catches movement to his right. He turns his head to watch as Paul is crouching further down on the balcony. When he sees Louis watching he holds up his middle and pointer finger, then nods.

Louis blinks, hoping Paul understands what that means. He lets his head down, seeing Niall first. He's looking up at Paul, communicating with his eyes. They've got a plan, which doesn't do much for Louis's anxiety or pain, but hey, they've got something.

He turns his attention to Harry. He's got silent tears running down his face. Louis catches his eye and holds him there.

“I'm fine,” he lies, loud enough for only Harry and the two guards to hear. “I'll be fine, okay.”

Here he is, lying to Harry again, but, and maybe he's wrong about this, he can't let Rodman see this is actually affecting him. Sure he's in pain, that much is obvious, but Rodman's just going to keep going until one of them breaks. 

The pain in his abdomen is searing, hurts to breath, but he's got to let Rodman drag this out. He knows Niall and Paul are trying to plan something, but being on two separate floors of the building and not being able to verbally communicate will slow the planning process down. Not to mention, Niall is being held by a guard. 

He's got to give them as much time as he can and if that means he'll suffer, so be it. Niall and Paul coming up with a plan means they have a chance of getting Harry out, which was the plan all along. If Louis being tortured by Rodman is what's going to help ensure Harry's safety, he'll gladly take it.

Harry doesn't seem to believe his lie, but he does nod.

“Wiley!” Rodman's voice calls. 

One of the guards that's been standing off to the side doing nothing, walks past Louis to go to Rodman. Louis glances down at himself, seeing the cuts in his shirt and the blood. 

He groans. “This was my favorite shirt.”

“Then you can be buried in it,” Rodman comments, walking back in front of Louis with Wiley following. “Ready?” he asks him.

Wiley nods and starts forward. Louis gives him a once over, stopping when he sees the pliers in his hand. He groan ago, slumping forward. 

When he sits up, he asks, “Really? Denailing? That's what your going for?”

Rodman smiles at him. “No.”

Before Louis can question it, the guard on his left is taking hold of his hand, while the guard on his right is wrapping his arms around his body so he can't move. Wiley takes hold of his pointer finger, setting the pliers right above his knuckle and – _oh_.

He gets it now. He's about to have his finger broken. 

It hurts a hell of a lot more than he'd hoped it would. It hurts so much that he doesn't stop himself from crying out in pain, body trying to fold in on itself – who knew having your finger forcibly broken would hurt that much – but all that does is earn him a punch in the gut from Wiley.

It hurts almost more than the finger because Wiley manages to hit him right where Rodman used the box cutter. 

“Ah! There's the yelling,” he hears Rodman say, the smile evident in his voice, as Wiley punches him in the jaw this time, the taste of blood filling his mouth almost immediately.

He gets two more punches to the jaw, before Wiley's taking a step back.

“Come on,” Louis grits out, spitting some blood onto the floor. “Is that all you've got?” he adds, blood still dripping from his mouth.

Wiley smirks at him, taking a step toward him again. He grabs Louis's middle finger, this time grabbing his fingernail with the pliers. So there will be denailing after all, he thinks dryly.

Wiley rips it off in a swift motion.

“Fuck!” Louis yells, body recoiling.

Over the ringing in his ears he hears Harry let out a sob and Rodman's laughter. The guards holding him, straighten him back up, helping Wiley to get a hold of his ring finger. 

Wiley's going to break this one, he knows, because he's setting the pliers near his knuckles. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says quickly, focusing his attention on Rodman.

Rodman raises an eyebrow. “Wait,” he tells Wiley.

Wiley waits, not removing the pliers.

“Why do you have to kill Harry?” he asks, getting confused looks from Zayn and Liam. “You don't need to kill him.”

“I'm afraid I don't know what you mean.”

“You said you want him to suffer like you did, so just kill me.” He's buying time. That's what he wants out of this, but he finds himself meaning it. “Let him live. Let him live the rest of his life mourning me, feeling guilty, whatever.” He's breathing hard, chest heaving. “He can stay alive. He'll suffer more that way. Knowing that I'm dead. Just kill me and leave him alone.”

He was definitely a lot more sincere than he'd thought he'd be. There's a damn good chance Louis isn't making it out of this, so if he can protect Harry he'll do it in whatever way possible. If that means being tortured all night before he's allowed to die at least he'd die knowing Harry was okay.

A tear slips out of his eye. “Letting him live would prolong his suffering,” he continues. “Please just do whatever you want to me, but leave him alone.”

Over Rodman's laughter he can hear Harry choking out his name. He won't dare to look at Harry, his heart would probably break if he did. He doesn't know where his relationship stands with him, doesn't know if Harry even believes that Louis cared for him at all. There's a chance Harry still may not believe it. After all, Louis is a good actor.

“You actually love him, don't you?” Rodman asks, coming to stand in front of him.

Louis quickly glances at Harry. He's crying hard, breathing heavily – looks worse than he did when they'd first gotten here. He shouldn't have looked; it did break his heart.

“Yes,” he says, looking up at Rodman. “I love him.”

“Isn't that sweet?” Rodman smiles. “You asked why I had to kill him. My answer is because it'll be funner for me that way.”

Rodman moves in a flash and a searing pain is hitting Louis in his thigh. He cries out, looking down at his leg to see some sort of small knife sticking out, blood wetting his jeans.

“You can continue, Wiley,” Rodman says, moving back to his earlier spot.

Louis's in too much pain to be able to focus on Wiley as he grunts, tightening the pliers a bit. “I'm enjoying this,” he says.

Before he has a chance to do anything, Niall's yelling, “Louis! Watch out!” and breaking away from his guard. He sees Niall pull out a smoke grenade, launching it into the center of the room. “Get down!” he yells at Louis.

The guards have loosened their grip a bit probably due to shock, so he's able to duck a bit just as a bullet goes right between Wiley's eyes.

The guards release Louis as he goes down on all fours. He glances up and behind him and sees that Paul had moved again. He doesn't have time to acknowledge him because he hears yelling from all over and gun shots, but he can't see much because of the smoke.

He starts crawling around, trying not to put too much pressure on his finger and all too aware of the knife sticking out of his thigh. When he gets close to where he'd put his gun, he's starts feeling around. After a second, he luckily finds his. Keeping it in his hand, he starts crawling again.

He wants to get to Harry, but there's no way he could find him and free him without being able to see. He'll have to wait for that, so he starts crawling in the direction of one of the tables. 

He finds one when he crawls headfirst into. Bringing his hand up to rub at his head, he hisses in pain when his broken finger makes contact with his skull.

“That's going to get annoying,” he mutters to himself as he pushes the table over.

He crawls to the other side, placing his back against the underside of the table. It's a second later when a second body is kneeling next to his.

It's Zayn.

“How'd you get over here so quickly?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“Figured this is where you were going to try to go,” he answers giving him a quick once over. “You okay?”

“Entertaining, isn't it?” he says in lieu of an answer.

Zayn rolls his eyes. He scoots closer to the table, peeking over it. He notices the gun in Zayn's hand for the first time when he lets off one single shot.

“Where'd you get that?” he asks as Zayn ducks back down.

“I'll never tell.”

They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sounds of gunshots and yelling. Somewhere behind them he can hear Niall yelling, “Hell yeah, motherfucker.”

“At least he's having fun,” Louis comments.

“Told you it was a trap,” Zayn mutters.

Louis snorts, “yeah well.”

“I took one of my guards out,” Zayn tells him. “I don't know if he's dead, but he's definitely out cold.”

Louis gets on his knees, turning to peek over the table. The smoke is clearing a bit and he can make out Liam in a hand-to-hand fight with two guards. Two more are shooting at what he thinks is Paul and Niall is freeing Harry from the chair, but Rodman is nowhere to be seen.

“Rodman's gone,” he hisses.

“What?” Zayn's shooting up at that. “Where the hell-.”

Louis doesn't hear the rest of his question because someone is grabbing him from around the neck, pulling him back. He drops his gun as the person is pulling him up into a standing position.

He's hit in the left jaw with an impressive right hook. He brings his hand up to cup his jaw, drops it after a second, spits more blood out and stands fully. He's met with a smirking Rodman.

Louis rolls his eyes as he's getting hit again. Rodman immediately throws another punch, but Louis's able to block him, throwing a right hook of his own. They trade a couple of punches, Louis favoring his left hand since it hurts like hell in multiple places. Rodman's got a cut over his eye, but he still manages to push Louis to the ground.

Rodman's leaning over him as Louis tries to push him off, but he grabs hold of the knife in Louis's thigh and gives it a painful twist. Louis screams – he'll deny it later, he's sure – and somehow he's able to kick Rodman off him.

They both get back to their feet, Rodman grinning maniacally. Louis's in a hell of a lot of pain, bleeding from several places, but as Rodman punches him in the face again, Louis ignores it all, sending a punch of his own that hits Rodman in the abdomen, sending them into another fist fight.

There's a chance it could go on all night. They don't have that kind of time, nor does he want to do this all night, so he starts racking his brain for a plan. He gets an idea when he remembers one of his training sessions with Liam.

He lets Rodman hit him, then grabs Rodman by the shoulders and, with his good leg, knees him in the crotch. Rodman lets out a pained groan, doubling over. Louis grabs him by the collar, pulls his torso up and hits him a couple of times before Rodman goes slack in his hands. Louis drops him to the ground.

He takes a minute to breath. Noticing he doesn't hear gunshots anymore, he turns around and is met with stares and bodies littering the ground. Zayn's somehow on the other side of the room, gun hanging in his hand limply by his side. Niall and Harry are standing close to the door that him and Zayn had come through earlier. Liam is the closest to him, arms crossed and a cocked eyebrow.

“Told you the kneeing thing would work,” he comments, bending over to grabs his gun.

He fully intends to use it on Rodman, but before he can do anything someone's bursting through a door he never noticed, opening fire.

Louis has a brief second to notice an opening to another hallway before he dives into it. He hits the ground hard, hissing in pain as he shoots up immediately, gun ready. There's no one in the hall, so he peeks back into the room. He can see that Niall's got Harry hidden behind him while he shoots at the two new guards.

_Harry_.

He's not sure exactly when he made the decision, but he's running – at least as much as he can – down the hall in the hopes that it will lead him to the hallway closest to Harry. The sounds of the gunfire quiets for a while, but the hallway veers to the left and when he gets halfway down it he notices he can hear it again.

He slows down when as he's nearing the end of the hallway. He can see Harry and Niall. Niall's still shooting, so Louis makes his way to Harry with the intention of grabbing him and pulling him out of danger. 

But before he can, the gunfire is stopping. Niall turns to say something to Harry, but he's violently pushed out of the way by Rodman, who's grabbing Harry by the hair and pulling him up. 

Louis freezes when he sees the light catch off the blade of a knife pressed to Harry's throat.

“Don't anybody move!” Rodman yells, waving around his free arm. He's got a gun that he's pointing at everyone. “Drop your weapons!”

He can't see much from his position behind Rodman and Harry, but he can hear the sound of several weapons hitting the floor.

“Now,” Rodman continues, still yelling. “I tried to play nice!”

Louis quietly takes a couple more steps down the hall. He doesn't stop until he's right at the entrance. Liam comes into view, notices Louis and starts to react. Louis quickly shakes his head, mouthing “no”. Liam does a good job of recovering, bringing his attention back to Rodman.

“Come on out, Tomlinson! I know you're here somewhere! Don't leave poor Harry here on his own! He needs you!”

To prove his point, he pushes the blade of the knife into Harry's skin. Harry whimpers as a drop of blood starts to form, which is all the incentive Louis needs to bring his gun up, continuing to walk slowly toward Rodman.

“I'm going to kill him either way! But I can make it more painful, Tomlinson! Don't you want to-.”

Rodman cuts himself off when he feels the barrel of Louis's gun against the back of his head. “Drop the knife and let Harry go,” he says, voice deeper than it's ever been.

Rodman slowly drops the knife and pushes Harry away from him with all the force he can muster. He's still got the gun in his outstretched hand, but Louis's got his pointed right between his eyes.

“Fuck off, mate,” he says, jaw clenched, as he pulls the trigger, blood spraying everywhere.

Rodman's body drops to the floor, the gun clanging next to him, a pool of blood already forming. 

Louis bends over, hands on his knees. Looking up at Liam, he says, “Next time we all get maps.”

Liam takes a couple steps toward him, carefully avoiding the pool of blood. “I actually think he had the blueprints changed or something. The ones we were looking at did not match this building.”

“Oh, you think?”

Liam frowns, looking down at Louis's leg. “You've still got a knife embedded in your thigh.”

Louis looks down. The knife is definitely still there, hitting his skin at a weird angle, blood dripping from it. He grabs the handle. Taking a deep breath to brace himself, he clenches his jaw and pulls it out. It stings and he yells out again as he tosses the blade onto the floor.

“Not sure that was the best idea,” he hears Liam mutter.

He opens his mouth to respond, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Harry getting to his feet. When Louis turns to him Harry freezes. All things considered, Harry looks okay, a little shell-shocked, but he's alive and not as hurt as he could have been.

They stare at each other for a while. In the background he hears Niall suggesting that Liam grabbed the wrong prints. He hears a gasp and then Niall yelling, “ow”, but Harry's still staring at him and _he's alive_.

“Harry,” he says softly, shrugging, the hand holding his gun outstretched.

It's all the incentive Harry needs to launch himself at Louis, connecting their lips. Louis, stunned as he is, drops the gun and wraps his arms around Harry's back. He ignores the stinging from his left hand when he digs his fingers into Harry's shirt.

He's not sure how long they kiss like that, like it's the end of the world, like they're the only things that matter and they've got nothing better to do than snog each other's faces off. It's enough for him to ignore the pain he's feeling all over his body.

Someone clearing their throat has them breaking apart. Harry blinks at him once, then lets Louis go completely, taking five steps back.

“Uh, I hate to interrupt, lads.”

They both turn their attention to Paul, who's got his gun slung over his shoulder. He hears a gasp from Harry and then he's yelling “Paul” and launching himself at him, pulling a surprised Paul into a hug. Paul's still for a second before he hugs Harry back. 

When they break apart, Paul says, “We need to get out of here. We don't know if there's anyone else coming.”

“What do we do about the bodies?” Liam asks, hitting Niall upside the head, though Louis doesn't know why. “We can't just leave this all here.”

“Sure we can,” Zayn says, lighting up a cigarette. “I say we leave the motherfuckers here to rot.”

Zayn looks more put together than the rest of them. He's only got one visible injury to his arm and it's just a small cut, but his eyes are filled with anxiety and he's having a hard time standing still. Louis knows it's because he's uncomfortable being here and is starting to panic over the thought of them being caught.

“We can't do that,” Liam argues.

“Yes we can,” Paul says to him, earning a bemused look from Harry. “Did you not see what they were doing to Louis?”

As if on cue, Louis's body chooses that moment to remind him of how much pain it's in as the adrenaline is wearing off. A sharp pain racks it's way through his stomach that has him clutching at himself. 

“Fuck,” he groans. 

Liam's at his side in a second, helping him to stand. “We need to get you out of here.”

“No shit.”

“Louis, don't be rude,” he chastises. “And I only meant that our DNA is all over this place. We can't call the cops because we're all criminals, except you two and you know that whoever finds this will test all the DNA.”

“Not a problem,” Niall chirps, pocketing his phone. “Just rang some friends. They're going to come in and clean this place up nice and pretty for us.”

“Great!” Zayn exclaims, clapping his hands. “Let's get Louis out of here.”

There's a murmuring of agreement, but Louis can't do much more than listen. His eyes are closing without his permission as Liam leads him out of the building.

“Lost a lot of blood,” he mumbles to Liam. 

“I know, but Niall's going to patch you up and you'll be good as new.”

“'m finger hurts,” he adds, opening his eyes a fraction to see Liam glancing at him worriedly. “Don't worry, Payno. I'm fine. We saved Harry.” He feels his forehead wrinkle at that. “Where is Harry?”

“Paul's got him,” Liam answers.

“Ah, okay. Paul's good.”

It's a struggle to keep his eyes open anymore, so he lets them close, everything fading to black.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The recovery process begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start off apologizing for not updating. I made a last minute decision to visit my mother for a week. Oops.  
> One more chapter after this. Yay!  
> Again, thank you all for reading and enjoy!

He'd woken up in one of Niall's spare bedrooms with stitches and a wrap around his abdomen, stitches on his thigh, and his left hand completely bandaged up two days after the whole ordeal. 

When he'd finally been able to heave himself out of the bed, he'd found Niall, Liam and Zayn sprawled out in Niall's bedroom. Niall told him he'd make as close to a full recovery as he could, he'll probably have some scars and because of the way his finger was broken he might develop arthritis. He also told him that his friends cleaned up the whole mess and there's no way anything can be tracked back to them.

Liam was quick to inform him that he hadn't grabbed the wrong blueprints, that Rodman had them switched out in order to throw them off. Louis had snorted out a “it worked”, immediately regretting it because it sent a stabbing pain through his stomach.

Zayn had been the one to inform him with sympathetic eyes that Harry had left with Paul later the next morning, but only after he'd been assured by Niall that Louis would be fine. Zayn also said that Harry told them to tell him not to try to contact him, that he appreciated Louis risking his life to save him, but that he didn't ever want to see him again. He's sure there was a hell of a lot more involved in that conversation because of the utter conviction in Zayn's voice while he was telling him.

It hurt, that Harry didn't want to see him, but he was on painkillers and had almost immediately fallen asleep afterward. He slept for the majority of the week following that so he didn't spend much time thinking about it, but he had dreamt about green eyes almost every night among other not so nice things.

It's been three weeks since then and he's trying to come to terms with Harry ignoring him. Yes, he'd tried calling him. No, he didn't cry when he got Harry's voice mail every time.

He'd come to terms in Caracas that Harry would never forgive him or want to see him ever again. He gets it, he does. He wouldn't want to associate with himself, either. It'd hurt, yeah, but he was dealing with it. He'd accepted that he'd never see Harry again.

Even after the Rodman thing, he'd accepted that there was probably a good chance that Harry would still never want to see him again even if Louis had managed to save his life. But Harry seemed pretty torn up, while Louis was being hurt and there was the whole kiss thing, which Harry had initiated.

Not that Harry hating him and not wanting to see him is the same thing as Harry being hurt and not wanting to see him. He just wants to talk to Harry one last time, wants to explain to Harry that what he felt for him was honest, that he had fallen in love with Harry and that finishing off the job had absolutely killed him.

It wouldn't matter to Harry, though, he knows. Harry will never be able to trust him fully again. But Louis just wants to talk, wants to know if he was imagining Harry really caring about him back at the warehouse.

Liam seems to think he does. He'd told Louis that Harry was well worked up when Louis had lost consciousness. So worked up, in fact, that he'd been sick all over the back of Niall's Escalade, which was an impressive feat considering Harry didn't have anything in his stomach. Liam also told him that Paul had to forcibly remove Harry from the room when Niall was trying to patch him up because he wasn't giving Niall enough space to work. Harry had, in Liam's terms, been quite distraught at the thought that Louis was hurt because of him and, yes, like Zayn said, he did make it a point to say he never wanted to see Louis again, but Liam's sure Harry was lying, at least to himself because he looked very much like he didn't want to leave.

Zayn won't talk about it, which is making Louis think there was more to that night that they aren't telling him. Louis would ask, but he's not entirely sure he'd get a straight answer if he got one at all.

The point is, Louis would like to talk to Harry himself, but Niall's insisting that he take a little more time to recover before he goes gallivanting around London trying to track Harry down because, yes, apparently Harry has decided to get a different house since he was basically kidnapped from his current one. (According to Niall, Paul had mentioned that he's going to try to convince Harry to stay in that house because he knows Harry doesn't want to truly give it up since there's so much of his parents in in.)

But he can't go to Harry and he can't get Harry to answer his calls or his texts – he even tried emailing him twice – so he'd had time to think about this, which has only left him more confused and angry.

“Can I at least go to a park or something?” he asks, following Niall into his kitchen. “I'm going mad stuck up in here.”

Niall sets his plate in the sink, then turns to Louis, leaning back against the sink. “You can go to the park, but only if I go with you.”

“No,” Louis replies immediately, shaking his head.

“Then, no, you can't go to the park.”

“I want to,” he says hopefully, like it would make a difference.

“Since when do you like parks?” Niall inquires, the one corner of his mouth quirking up.

“Since you won't let me go anywhere,” he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. It fucking hurts. He ends up dropping his arms, groaning.

“And that's why you can't go anywhere.”

Niall pushes himself away from the sink, walking past Louis and back down the hall. Louis follows after him, sitting in the chair at Niall's desk when Niall goes into his office.

“Look,” Niall starts, grabbing a file off his desk. “I'm going to be completely honest with you, okay?” When he nods, Niall continues. “You need to give Harry some time.”

“What makes you think this is about Harry?”

All Niall does is raise an amused eyebrow, before walking back out of the office. Louis rolls his eyes, pushes himself out of the chair, happy to feel a smaller amount of pain than he has been feeling, and follows after Niall, who's settled himself down at the kitchen table.

“You've got a nice mahogany desk in there and you choose the kitchen table,” he comments sitting across from Niall.

“Can hardly get any work done when you're sat there, can I?” Niall retorts never looking up from his paper.

“So I am annoying you? You should have let me go to my own home last week when I mentioned it.”

“Quit avoiding the Harry comment.”

Louis breaks his eyes away form where he'd been playing with the hem of his shirt to stare at Niall, who's still looking at whatever is in the folder. “I'm not avoiding.”

Niall sighs, organizing the papers then letting the folder close. “You are.”

“Not really.”

“Fine then.” Niall leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. “Give him some time. That's all he wants.”

Louis snorts. “It's been three weeks since-.”

“I know,” Niall says cutting him off. “But he needs time.”

“How would you know what Harry needs?” he finds himself asking.

Niall gives him a sympathetic look before saying, “I have lunch with him a couple times a week.” 

_What?_

“What?” 

Niall drops his arms onto the table, fingers intertwining. “Yeah. Harry's not mad at me so much. Figure that's something to do with how he didn't fall in love with me.” 

Niall's nonchalant way of saying that drives the dagger deeper into his heart.

He'd suspected Harry's feelings were stronger than he was letting on. He was convinced Harry came close to saying it the night he caught them at the warehouse, but to hear Niall actually say it is whole other thing.

He chooses not to comment on it, though, instead asking, “How long has this been going on?” 

Niall shrugs. “Pretty much since you fled the fucking country. I'm still working for him, you know. I kind of enjoy it. Got used to not running from people and shit when I was recovering from the knee thing.”

“Does this mean you're quitting the life of crime you've worked so hard to have?”

Niall fixes him with a look. “It's just nice to not be worried you're going to get caught, is all.”

“And Harry doesn't have a problem with it?”

“I'm sure it was hard on him, but Harry's a good guy.”

“Right,” he drawls out. “But you're still a wanted criminal in most countries and he's letting you still work for him. I'm sure he could be arrested and charged with like harboring a criminal if you were to be caught. Also, you're not certified for that job.”

Niall lets out an exasperated breath. “I was working there for months and never screwed up,” he defends. “I think Harry realizes I'm good with money. As far as the rest, I don't know what Harry's playing at, but I really do enjoy working for him, with him, so please don't be a miserable git about this.”

Louis's forehead wrinkles. “Who said I was being miserable?”

Niall purses his lips. “All I'm saying is you need to let him come to you.”

And yeah, okay. He should've known there was no way Niall was letting him out of this. He can't help but wonder how much of what Niall's telling him stands true.

He doesn't know if Niall has actually spoken to Harry about this or if he's just inferring, but he seems confident.

“Will he?” he asks quietly.

“Yes.”

Louis ducks his head. “How can you be so sure?”

“I have faith in you both.”

He hears Niall scoot his chair away from the table and the sound of his footsteps going toward the door. “Nothing is ever going to be perfect between the two of you. It never could have been, but you can both damn well try. He'll show up eventually.”

When Louis finally looks up, Niall's out of sight. He can hear him puttering around somewhere down the hall. For some reason, it makes his chest ache more.

**

Niall had finally let him go home. It had only taken a month. Louis's no doctor, but he's pretty sure he was healthy enough to live at home two weeks prior, but Niall's got medical experience and it's got Louis wondering how close he was to actually snuffing it for Niall to be acting this protective. There's no point in dwelling on it, though, because he's finally back at home.

Niall, Liam and Zayn had all helped him “move” back in against Louis's insistence that he was perfectly able to do it on his own. They'd hung around for a couple hours, drinking beer and eating a pizza before they all begged off an hour ago after Niall received a text that had him smiling like an idiot. 

When questioned he'd said it was Barbara wanting to meet up. Louis's not sure he believed him because Niall's never been good at lying to Louis and wouldn't look him in the eye. Liam and Zayn had suspiciously both received texts at the same time that had them declaring they had to leave as well. They didn't offer a reason.

So, it shouldn't be a surprise that when someone knocked on his door, he opened it to reveal Harry, but he's surprised and frozen with one hand on the door, mouth hanging open.

He's blatantly staring, he knows, but he can't quite bring himself to care. The last time he'd seen Harry he was ripped, bloodied, pale and they'd been in a high pressure situation. Harry looks so damn fucking good in his dark skinny jeans and black tee under his black pea coat. He's suddenly feeling very self-conscious in his tracksuit bottoms and white tee.

Harry clears his throat after several seconds, snapping Louis's brain back to life.

“Right, right,” he mutters, stepping aside and ushering Harry through.

“I thought people like you couldn't trust anyone,” Harry says as Louis shuts the door.

He's shrugging off his coat and Louis's trying not to be offended by the “people like you”. It's not too difficult when all he's been wanting was to talk to Harry. Although, now that he's got his chance, he's not sure what to say.

“We can't,” is what he says.

“You let me in just now without-.”

“I trust you,” Louis says cutting him off as he walks past Harry to the table set up by the window.

“You have no reason too,” he hears Harry say.

“I think it's you that doesn't have a reason to trust me,” he says wryly as he lowers himself into a chair.

“I can turn you in,” Harry comments, ignoring what Louis's said. “You also trust Niall and the other two.”  
He waits to respond until Harry's seated himself in the chair opposite him. 

“That's different.”

“How so?” Harry inquires with barely disguised curiosity.

Louis doesn't look at Harry, turning his face toward the glass of the window. He's thought about how this would go many times, but each time it was with Harry reacting differently to him. He never thought about a situation where Harry was indifferent. Still, he's going to go with brutal honesty.

“I'll never trust them a hundred percent,” he says, still looking out the window. He turns his head, looking Harry in the eyes. After a pause he adds, “I trust you completely.”

Harry gives a dry laugh at that. “If that's your way of trying to-.”

Louis holds a hand up. “Not trying to do anything, but be completely honest.”

“Bit late for that,” Harry grumbles, leaning back in his chair. Crossing his arms, he adds, “You all work well together, though. I witnessed it first hand in case you've forgotten.” He hasn't. “There was a lot of communicating with nodding and your eyes. That takes a level of trust and understanding that most people will never have.”

Louis doesn't answer. He can't explain it. He could try, but he'll never get it out accurately. They trust each, yes. They trust each other with their lives on most occasions, but for the overall picture, no they don't. He's not sure Harry would understand that, though there is a chance he would after everything.

“Why?” Harry asks, after Louis's been silent too long. “Why do it? Any of it?”

Louis cocks an eyebrow. “Do what? Lie to you? Protect you? Develop feelings for you?”

At that last once Harry's hand twitches where it's resting on the table. “I meant all of it. Like from the beginning.”

“You want my story?”

Harry's smile gives his indifference act away. “Yes, I want your story,” he clarifies. 

“It's long and not very interesting,” he warns.

Harry shrugs. “I've got time.”

Nodding, Louis shifts in his seat, placing a leg underneath himself. “Okay, well, when I told you I was born in Doncaster I wasn't lying. That was the truth. I was. Grew up there. We had very little money and a big family to feed. It was hard having little money and I learned that it was easy to sneak out little sandwiches from the shops from a very early age. When you're hungry, you'll do about anything.”

“That's understandable,” Harry agrees with a a slight nod.

“I, uh, I saw how it was on me mum and by the time I was eight I promised myself I was never going to live like that.”

“Doesn't look like you have,” Harry comments, taking a brief glance around Louis's flat. He's been here before, but Louis's wondering what Harry's noticing that he didn't the first time. The lack of family photos, personal items. How much does Louis's home give him away? “Why not school or, you know, something that didn't involve crime?”

“Because I had a problem with people who had more than I did,” he admits. “People like you,” he adds with a jerk of his head at Harry. “I hated people like you because you never seem to realize how bad it is for people like us. You don't get that it's hard for us to pay bills, to feed our families, to live in general.”

Harry doesn't seem to mind what Louis's saying, nodding along, picking at the cuticle on his thumb.

“I wasn't the best student,” he continues. “Hated school. Didn't know what I wanted to do and no body that was in a position to help me gave a damn, so I didn't try. And then-.”

He cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. This is the part that really sort of sealed the deal for him. The part he doesn't talk about it. The part only the lads know and only because Zayn waited patiently to find out after Paris. It was something Louis told him because they'd shared such a horrible thing together and Louis had seen Zayn at his worst. He felt he owed that to Zayn.

He'd gotten drunk and told Niall. Liam had assumed it and questioned him about it. Louis had nodded when he needed to and that was the end of that.

The thing is, he didn't owe Zayn, not as much as he thought he did anyway. He was feeling guilty and for whatever reason thought it would help. He's never wanted to actively tell anyone before. He wants to tell Harry and, unlike Zayn, he does owe him it.

“And then?” Harry prompts when Louis's been quiet for too long.

“And then hell happened,” he says. “I had barely just turned seventeen, right. And things were worse than they'd been before. I snuck out one night because I was tired of it all and wanted to enjoy being a teen. When I got home sometime during the early morning, the house had burnt down. My family didn't make it out.”

“Lou, I-.”

Louis shakes his head, ignoring Harry calling him Lou. “Don't. It's not your fault. I came to terms with it a long time ago.”

“You shouldn't have had to.”

He doesn't want to think about how Harry went through something similar – losing his family – how he knows what Louis felt. He doesn't want to think about that. He can't if he wants to get through this.

“No,” he agrees. “But I did. It was tough in the beginning. Didn't know what to do. I had no where to go.”

“You were homeless.”

It's not a question, but Louis's nodding. “I took up stealing from people. Got really good at pickpocketing. Anything to help me live.”

“How'd that lead to being a conman?”

“I was a homeless kid that had always had a knack for trouble,” he says. “I was good at lying and when I needed something, tricking people into giving it to me was easy.”

“So it just escalated?”

Louis nods. “It was small things at first. I worked myself up into the bigger jobs. Made some acquaintances along the way, but as you pointed out, people like me can't trust anyone. Not that it was hard for me not to trust people.”

“You taught yourself everything?” Harry asks,not trying to hide the awe in his voice. Despite everything, it does make Louis feel a bit proud.

He smiles. “Yeah, I taught myself everything I know. Though, admittedly, most of what _I_ do is lying to people, tricking them into trusting me. I've been told I'm very charismatic and I handle people well. I know exactly what to do to get what I want. Except for you,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “You I didn't know how to handle.”

“I'd say I'm sorry, but...” Harry trails off, waving a hand.

“Okay,” he replies, nodding and piercing his lips. “But, you're also later in the story.”

Harry leaning further back in his chair. “Do go on,” he says with a small smile.

“In the beginning, the jobs were for money, the way it is for most of us,” he explains. “You get bored of that after a while and start doing bigger jobs. I want to take a moment to point out that I've never targeted someone who couldn't afford it.”

Harry's smile disappears as he sits up. “Doesn't make much of a difference.”

“Maybe not,” Louis shrugs. “But I don't much care for the rich.”

“So you've said.”

“Anyway,” he says, removing his leg from underneath himself. “I met Zayn around the time I turned twenty. I'm not telling you anything about his story because that's not something you tell about someone else. And you only tell someone yourself when you trust them in some respect.”

“I feel honored.”

“But I will say,” he continues, ignoring Harry, “that he had a similar upbringing to mine. We were both in Paris. Happened to be targeting the same person. It was the biggest job either of us had ever attempted and against our better judgments we decided to work together. The job took a long time to pull off. Almost a year. And I was so desperate for a friend that I latched on to Zayn during that time.”

Harry lays his hands flat on the table. “I feel like there's a lot more to that story.”

“There is, but I can't tell you any of it because it mostly affected Zayn,” he says. “I fucked up a bit. He blamed me for it for a long time even if he never said he did, but we did, in a manner of speaking, bond over it. And in this world, we're as close to friends as we can get. I would trust him with my life and he the same. And before everything got fucked up we did work well together.”

He pauses, trying to recall the next bit. “We kept in touch. Zayn's more of a planner than I am and I'm better at going in and dealing with people. It was mutually beneficial for us to work together sometimes.”

When Louis falls silent, Harry asks, “How'd you met Niall and Liam?”

“Liam and Zayn knew each other,” he says. “Liam worked for the government.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow at him. “Should you be telling me that?”

“Probably not, but it'll help you understand why Liam's valuable to us.”

Harry nods.

“He was young, very young, but he's good at hacking and he's a lot smarter than people give him credit for. He didn't like the types of things the government was having him do, so he quit. It didn't go over well, and I don't know the whole story, but he decided as a big “fuck you” he'd screw them over money wise.”

Harry leans back again, resting his hands in his lap. “Does this have anything to do with what Rodman was talking about?”

“Yes,” Louis nods. “Rodman was hacking into the government's money. Stealing from them. Liam was the only one able to trace the hack and prevent it from happening. Apparently, he almost caught Rodman.”

“Too bad he didn't.”

“Yeah. He was able to stop it, but when he decided to go rouge, he undid all the work he did, opening up the government's whole computer system for any hacker and he stole a couple million as well.”

Harry's eyes widen. “I remember hearing about that. I can't believe he'd steal that much. Does he know what that did to the tax payers?”

Louis smiles, dryly at him. “Of course, that's why he gave all but a small fraction of it back to the people who needed it. I think he was just trying to prove a point,” he concludes. “Anyway, before Paris, Zayn was pulling a job here in London, but he's not very good with technology and he needed someone to hack for him.”

“So he found Liam who was just recently out of a job?”

Louis nods. “Like I said, Zayn and I are friends as well as we can be, so Liam popped up occasionally because him and Zayn got on.”

“And Niall?”

Louis hums, biting his upper lip. “I can't tell you much about Niall. I don't know much about Niall.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I don't,” Louis defends, holding his hands up. “Though, he likes you. You might be able to get it out of him.” The one side of Harry's mouth quirks up, but he doesn't say anything. “Niall is quite like me in the respect that people like him. It's hard not to and he's easy to trust. He knew Liam. I still don't know how, but he did. He came round one day and started talking about this massive job he wanted to pull in Stockholm, but he'd needed help.”

“So you all did?”

“Eh,” Louis drawls out. “Mostly. You usually don't team up. You usually want to do a job all on your own so you'll get all the profit. It's not uncommon to work a with one, maybe two others, but the more people you work with the more of a chance you have of something going wrong. Not to mention, more people you have to share the money with,” he explains. “I didn't take much convincing, though. He wasn't after money, not exactly. He wanted some diamond that was worth more than all our jobs we've ever pulled. It was harder than what I was used to and I was bored, so I jumped on it immediately. Zayn and Liam took convincing, but they agreed. It was the first time we all worked together.”

“Ever since then, we've pulled the harder jobs with at least two of us, so yes, we do trust each other to a certain extent.”

Harry frowns. “You've literally said that you'd trust each other with your lives, how is that an extent?”

“You have to be careful. You never know when someone will betray you to help themselves,” he explains. “I've seen it happen. It gets nasty and you don't want to be involved with something like that. But as it is, the four of us do get on and we're about the only friends we've got. It's hard to keep relationships.”

Harry nods in understanding and they fall into silence. Louis can't handle Harry's watchful gaze, so he turns to look out the window once again.

It's weird to talk about this stuff to someone and while he knows Harry's judging him, disapproves of it, he can't help but feel that maybe Harry understands, that there's a part of Harry deep down that understands why Louis is the way he is.

“Let me ask you something,” Harry says after a while. He waits for Louis to turn to him before he continues. “You don't have to tell me, but I think I deserve it. What happened in Sao Paulo? What did Rodman mean about you being caught?”

This is it. He had hoped Harry wouldn't ask. He wasn't even sure Harry had been conscious enough at the time to be listening. But he had been and now Louis's going to delve deep into that again.

Louis sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs wincing when he hits the spot the knife had been in. “I had hoped you hadn't caught that.”

“It was something serious,” Harry states, watching him closely.

“Uh-huh,” Louis nods. “I fucked up. Big.”

“You don't have to tell me,” Harry says quickly.

Louis holds his hand up. “Please. I need to tell you.” Harry leans back in his chair again. “Sao Paulo, Brazil,” he says. “It was supposed to be an easy job. Con the most successful businessman in Brazil and take his money, that sort of thing. It was taking longer than I had hoped. Liam was the only one who knew I was there because he helped me forge proper identification and whatever else I needed. It was taking longer, but the main problem was the CEO's secretary had a thing for me.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath. Explaining this, rehashing it never gets easier and he's sure Harry can tell he's struggling with this.

“He had a thing for me,” he continues. “I knew it too. Figured if I played it up he'd somehow lead me to the end. It, uh, had been a while since I had a, uh, sexual encounter with anyone. I went against my better judgment and let things happen. I just wanted sex.”

He ignores the way Harry's jaw clenches and continues. “It was fine. We were having regular shags and I was slowly progressing to what I wanted.”

“What happened?” Harry asks, hand balled into a tight fist.

“I needed some sort of legal document or something. I don't remember the specifics, but I called Liam to help with that because, well he's sort of the best at that sort of thing. Don't tell him I said that.”

“Secret's safe with me,” Harry quips.

“He caught me on the phone with Liam,” Louis continues, noting how Harry's face darkens. “To make a long story short, he caught me and I ended up in a Brazilian prison. That's not a place you want to be in Harry,” he warns. “I'm not going into what happened while I was there, but it wasn't fun.”

Harry's face is pale now and his knuckles are almost completely white. Louis's going to try not to think about what that means.

“I was about to be indicted,” he continues. “Had Liam not realized something was up when he did I'd probably still be in prison or worse.”

“Liam saved you.”

Louis nods, running his good hand through his hair. “He did. Gave me a good talking to, too.” He pauses, running his hand through his hair again. “I got caught. Nearly ruined my life. Risked everything for a good shag and look what it got me. He said similar things to that.”

Harry looks contemplative when he says, “Was that what I was to you? A good shag?”

Louis bites the inside of his check to keep from screaming. It hurts that Harry would think that's all he was to him, but Louis never gave him a reason to think otherwise. Louis's actions certainly don't give him reason to think that.

Louis ducks his head, unable to meet Harry's eyes when he says, “No. No, you weren't just a good shag.”

He's said it so quietly he's not sure Harry heard it, but he did because he's saying, “You understand why I can't believe you, right?”

It's said almost as quietly as Louis's confession, but it's got Louis's head snapping up. Harry's not looking at him, choosing to stare out the window with a jaw clenched.

“I risked my life to save you,” he points out. “Why else would I have done that?”

“I don't know,” Harry shrugs, not looking at him. “Because you felt guilty.”

“I did feel guilty,” he agrees. “But, Harry, I've never once in my life felt guilty about any of the jobs I've pulled.”

Harry looks at him then, eyes searching. He must see something in Louis's expression that has him softening. He nods. “Okay, but I don't understand still. What happened? With me? What was this?”

Louis sighs.

It's a complicated thing he doesn't even understand. He doesn't know what happened. He doesn't understand it because while it mirrors Sao Paulo in a lot of ways, it's also a hell of a lot different, but he's not sure how it happened, why. He's got to try, though, for Harry.

“I'm going to be honest with you, Harry. I'm not really sure what happened,” he confesses. “You have to understand that since Sao Paulo I've been scared shitless that I was going to fuck up again. In this business you're constantly watching people to make sure they don't find out who you really are. You're never fully relaxed. You can't have relationships with people because you can't trust anyone. Everyone has the potential of fucking you over, turning you in. But since Sao Paulo I've been a little more paranoid than usual.”

“That's understandable.”

He scoots his chair away from the table so he can prop his elbows on his knees. “Liam worries to much. You don't know that about him, but he does. He's told me on a number of occasions that he worries that I'll pull another Sao Paulo. I always told him to fuck off and that I wouldn't, but deep down I was worried that I would. For the longest time Liam was the only one who knew the whole story. I told Zayn eventually and Niall knew bits and pieces. It's not something I talk about. I try to forget it but it's always there.”

Harry tilts his head, brow furrowing. “What's this got to do with me?”

“I hadn't pulled a job in a while,” he replies. “I was getting bored, so when Zayn and Liam showed up here one evening, Zayn saying he had a job he wanted us to help with I agreed. It was all Zayn's idea.”

“Figured as much,” Harry says smiling.

Louis's forehead wrinkles. “Yeah, okay, so at some point one of you is going to tell me what kind of interacting you've done.”

Harry's face smooths out. “He was the friend. The friend you said that liked art.”

Louis nods. “Yeah. He wouldn't tell us what the job was at first because he wanted to find Niall first. I agreed to do a job I literally knew nothing about. That's how bored I was. And it took us a trip to Kentucky and horse racing before we found Niall, in case you were wondering.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow. “The Derby?” he asks with an enthusiasm that Louis doesn't understand.

“Why does everyone love horse racing? Niall's horse won, by the way,” he informs him. “But anyway we got back here and then Zayn told us that he wanted to go after you. I had no idea who you were, not that it mattered to me, but Liam and Niall were quick to inform me of who you were. Zayn had found out that you were receiving threats and figured it be a good idea for me to pose as a bodyguard.”

“Why not Liam? He's more the type.”

Louis starts to snap at him, but Harry's got an easy grin. “Bastard,” he mutters instead. “Zayn wanted me to because Liam's not so good at dealing with people. I'm good at getting close and earning trust.”

Harry's face goes dark again.

“In the beginning you were just a job,” he continues. “I was supposed to earn your trust, then fuck you over.”

He forces himself to look away from Harry. He's not sure he can go on if he has to watch Harry's face give away what he's feeling.

“But the thing about you, Harry, is that you're a damn good person and you got under my skin. You seemed to hate me at first, but you were so good with everyone else. It was irritating because there was no way you would trust me if I couldn't get you to like me, but it was bothering me in other ways. I genuinely wanted you to like me.”

“Was Niall working for me really your idea or was it Zayn's?” Harry asks, ignoring what Louis's said.

“Zayn's, though I was glad for it after a while because he did help.”

He hears Harry hum. “I did like you. From the beginning. I didn't want to get close to you because I was pissed over the whole situation, but I did like you.”

_Did_. It makes his heart sink a little, but he forces himself to go on.

“After the whole poison thing, you started opening up to me more and I'm not sure how, but I got swept up in some sort of downward spiral after that.”

“What do you mean?” Harry inquires.

He looks at Harry then, meets his eyes. “Harry, jobs like that don't usually take months unless something's gone wrong.”

“What went wrong?”

“You,” he says quietly. “You went wrong,” he smiles. “Or I did, depending on how you want to look at it. I didn't actually realize it at the time, but I was deliberately dragging it out because of you. Look, I didn't mean for anything to actually happen with us, but it did.”

“I still don't understand,” Harry says, shaking his head.

“I genuinely started to care about you. I was having Niall dig around to see if it was someone that worked for you sending you the threats and I was having Liam keep an eye on your house. I didn't want you getting hurt. I failed spectacularly at that, by the way.”

Harry shrugs. “You kept me alive.”

Louis lets out a dry laugh. “Sure, but I also hurt you. But, anyway, I was experiencing these feelings about you that I've never felt before. I slipped up a couple times around the lads, said something I shouldn't have, reacted the wrong way. Liam voiced his concern that another issue like Sao Paulo was happening. I denied it at first, to them, to myself.”

“For a while I believed it, but the night of the charity event made me realize that I cared more than I cared to admit. I risked Zayn's job. I risked you finding out everything when I took you to Niall's, but I knew you'd be safe there and I was panicking because you were hurt. And I fed you that lie about Niall, who by the way, does actually like you.”

Harry laughs a bit at that. “I know. Also, I did notice that Niall was hired before you were, so I didn't completely believe you about that, but, you know.” 

He ends his statement with a shrug that doesn't actually clear anything up. Louis thinks he gets it anyway.

“I was still panicking,” he defends. “I don't really ever panic, so that was new to me. But life goes on. Zayn was putting pressure on me and Liam kept giving me these looks like he knew what was going on. Then we slept together. I was proper panicking then. Thought I was going to ruin another job because I couldn't keep it in my pants.”

“I wasn't going to tell Liam because he would've said “I told you so” and I didn't want to ruin Zayn's job. Since Sao Paulo Liam has always been concerned I'd do it again and I know Zayn thinks the same even if he won't say it, so I didn't want to let them down. And you were panicking just as much as I was and we agreed it wasn't going to happen again.”

“Niall knew,” Harry says softly, looking down at his lap. “I told him.”

Louis closes his eyes. “I know. He told me a couple of times that you had a crush on me, which Zayn and Liam told me I should play into. I didn't want to. I didn't want to play with your emotions. I tried not to. But yeah, Niall rounded on me the minute you left the room the next morning. Up until that point he had thought the whole thing amusing.”

Harry mutters, “I don't think it is” before looking up at him again. His eyes are watery, like he's about to cry any minute now. “I really wanted you, you know. And everything I said that morning about not letting it happen again was the truth. But-.” He cuts himself off, groaning. “I was like proper in love with you, you know.”

It hurts. It hurts before but now it really fucking _hurts_. There's nothing he can do about it now. 

“It happened again,” he continues. “It happened again and I was selfish. I wanted you, Harry. Hell, I still want you, so I let myself have it even though I knew I was potentially making a mistake.”

“Why?” Harry pleads. “Why do that if you were only planning on sneaking out and leaving?”

“I was _scared_ , Harry. I was scared and it wasn't my job. At that point Zayn was really putting the pressure on me and Niall was constantly giving me pitying looks and Liam was just there, but I knew if he knew he'd be judging me. And I was scared because I wanted you in every way.”

He's got tears in his own eyes now, but he's not doing anything to stop them from flowing. He takes a shaky breath, siting straighter. 

“I knew it would hurt both of us, but I didn't think I had a choice.” Harry scoffs. “Seriously, Harry. You can't sit there and tell me you would have been okay if I had told you who I really was.”

“I already suspected something was up,” Harry argues. “I knew you were lying about Niall. I found all those I.D.'s and passports. I knew you were sneaking around the house at night when you thought I was sleeping. And I knew there was something really going on when you suddenly took an interest in the art collection.”

“I still couldn't have told you, though, because I would have been compromising the others.”

Harry groans, getting to his feet. “If you really cared about me you would have come clean.” 

Louis stands as well, throwing his arms out. “You think I didn't think about that? Because I did every day! I thought about telling you the truth every day! But I was scared of you how you'd fucking react.”

“It would have been better had you told me,” Harry argues. “I would've been hurt, but we could have-.”

“Could have what?” he yells. “I would have been fucking over Zayn. And sure he's my friend, but did you listen to me earlier? I wasn't going to do that and I wasn't going to let Liam get in my head about me not being able to do my job because of attractive men.”

Harry scoffs. “Thought I was more than just a good shag?”

“You fucking were. Have you not been _listening_ to me?” 

“I'm trying Louis, but it's really fucking hard when you lied to me about everything.”

“You want to know something?” he asks, eyes boring into Harry. “I dragged the job out for so long because you were still getting death threats! I was worried about you! Even though I knew that the longer I stayed the more of a chance you had of finding out the truth, I still drug it out because I didn't trust anyone else to protect you! Back at the warehouse when I was pleading with Rodman, I was fully prepared to die to keep you alive! Everything I said back there was to protect you! I was telling him the truth when I said I loved you! I was going to die for you.” His voice cracks at the last bit, tears threatening to spill. 

“I was willing to let him kill me without putting up a fight even though there was only a small chance it would keep you alive.”

It's brutal honesty and it serves it's purpose. Louis's told Harry what was going on in his head and admitted to loving him. It's made Louis feel a bit better, the whole being honest thing, but it hardly fixes anything.

Harry deflates, letting himself sag back into his chair. “Yeah, okay,” he says, running a hand down his face. “I told myself I was going to keep calm. I had a long time to think about this and I promised myself I'd keep calm.”

Louis slowly sits back down, watching Harry carefully. “You really wouldn't have been okay with me had I told you the truth.”

Harry slouches even more. “I know. I'm just...” he trails off, waving a hand for the right word.

“Hurt? Confused?” Harry nods, but doesn't specify which one. “I really did think about telling you, but I couldn't. And for the record, Niall tried to get me to. He tried to convince me that Zayn would call it off if I explained to him what had happened.”

“Would he?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “Not a chance. Probably would have just laughed at me and pushed me back into it.”

They fall into silence again. This one a bit more comfortable than the previous. The sun's starting to set outside and Louis wonders how long they've been at this for.

“I felt betrayed, you know?” Harry begins. His head is bent as he leans on his knees, but he's looking up at Louis through his eyelashes. “I followed you that night. I felt like I shouldn't, but I did because I needed to know. And I walked in and I saw you there with the others and I didn't-.” 

He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair. “I didn't report it. I'm not sure why. Paul told me, insisted actually, that I do it, but I couldn't.”

“Why?”

Harry sits up, looking Louis dead in the eye. “I should have. You really hurt me, Louis, but I loved you.” He pauses for a brief second. Not giving Louis an appropriate amount of time to think about it, he continues. “How did you know Rodman had me? How'd you get Paul involved?”

Louis wants to point out Harry's quick change of topic because he wants to know if Harry _still_ loves him. He said loved, does that mean he doesn't anymore or was it just because what he'd been talking about had happened in the past? He wants to ask, but it's clear Harry doesn't want him to. He won't push it.

“Did Paul not tell you?” When Harry shakes his head, Louis laughs. “Why doesn't that surprise me?”

“He doesn't tell me a lot of things,” Harry pouts.

“For your own good, love.” He realizes it as soon as it's out of his mouth, but Harry doesn't seem to mind, so he brushes it off. “After we left your warehouse that night. I told Zayn to fuck off and to keep my share.” Harry's forehead wrinkles and he bites his lip, but he doesn't say anything. “I went straight to Heathrow and took the first flight out of England I could get. I was in Caracas. Didn't tell anyone. But Paul found me.”

“How?”

Louis places his arm on the table. “Well, after whatever happened, I still don't know, by the way.”

Harry shrugs. “Not worth telling.”

Louis frowns at him. “Well, after that happened, Paul, I guess was desperate and went looking for me. I'm not sure how he connected everything so quickly, but he did somehow. I suspect he realized or you had told him that Niall was involved. Paul went to Niall who sent him to Liam who tracked me down and Paul came and got me. I thought at first it was to do me in for what I did to you, but he made it perfectly clear that's not why he was there and I tried to make it clear to him I wanted nothing to do with you, which was a big lie. I quickly dropped that act when he told me what had happened.”

“So you went back to London with him and the five of you tracked me down,” Harry finishes.

Louis nods. “I was shocked. I knew why Niall was doing it. He felt guilty because he actually likes you. Still not completely sure why Liam and Zayn helped.”

“They figured out how you felt about me,” Harry says softly. At Louis's confused expression, Harry explains. “They felt guilty. I don't think Zayn would have pushed it so much had you talked to him. He does care about you. So does Liam. It's pretty obvious. They want you to be happy.”

“People like us can't be happy,” he mutters, earning a sad look from Harry. “What the hell happened while I was out?”

Harry smiles. “I'll never tell.”

And that's something Zayn said to him. It could mean nothing, but it's definitely weird and now he knows that they've had more interaction than he thought. He's going to let it slide for now, though.

“Well, anyway. I was scared,” he admits. “For you.”

“You risked your life for me,” Harry says slowly. “I'm not sure how I feel about that. When I caught you, I thought everything about you had been a lie. I didn't think you could possibly care about me, but you risked your life to save me.”

“I did,” he says with a sad smile.

“You said you loved me.”

“I do.”

“I don't know how to feel about you,” Harry admits, not meeting Louis's eyes. “I know I didn't like watching what Rodman was doing to you.”

At the memory, Louis shudders. He hasn't allowed himself to think about it too much, which may not be healthy for him in the long run, but whatever.

Harry grimaces a bit too, probably remembering what they'd done to him before.

“I know I'm mad at you. Confused and hurt,” Harry continues, looking at his hands. “But like, I also want to be with you, but I'm not sure how to be. I can't trust you, not completely. You have risked your life on more than one occasion to save mine and I keep telling myself that that's enough, but I'm not sure it is. Even if you were going to die for me.”

Louis takes a deep breath. Harry still wants to be with him, but he doesn't know if he can. He'll take that. Ideally, he'd like Harry to take him without a problem, but that's being unrealistic. At least there's hope now.

“I understand,” he says, nodding. “I can't change who I am, though,” he adds because he thinks Harry might have considered getting him to. “I can't quit this life. This is who I am. So you'll have to take me completely or leave me.”

It sounds much more like an ultimatum than he wanted it to, but Harry seems to understand.

“I still don't know what I want.”

“Well,” Louis hums. “You should know that I never lied about how I felt about you. That part was true. Every bit of it and I'd risk my life a thousand times over for you, so you know.”

He ends in a shrug that has Harry smiling at him.

“I still need time, I think,” he says.

“I can give you that. You deserve it.”

Harry stands to go, Louis presumes, but after he's taken a few steps away from him, he stops. He turns back to Louis.

“I do have one more question, though.”

Louis quirks an eyebrow. “Just one more?”

“Okay, a few, but this is important. Had you ever killed anyone before that night?”

It's not what Louis was expecting at all. It makes sense that Harry would want to know, but he's not sure how truthful Harry wants him to be. He doesn't want to lie, but he doesn't think Harry will like the answer.

He tells him a watered down version of the truth.

“I have,” he says. “But only when my life or someone else's was in danger. I don't enjoy killing people. I don't want to, but sometimes in this business it happens.”

Harry's nodding before Louis finishes and he doesn't know what that means

Harry smiles at him. “I'll see you around, Louis.”

He's out the door before Louis has a chance to stand up. He was confused about where his relationship with Harry stood before. He's definitely more confused now, but there might be a chance for them. He _hopes_ there is even if there is a voice in the back of his mind telling him that it would never work. 

It'd be too dangerous, but he convinces himself for the time being that it's Harry's decision to make, not his. If Harry makes the decision they might actually have a chance of working.

He goes to bed that night and dreams of green eyes again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis has to make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, okay. Wow. This is the end. I've never written anything this long before and I just have to say that I'm very proud of it and I thank you all very much for reading, commenting and whatever else you may have done.  
> I warned you multiple times that this didn't end happily. This is your last warning. And if you want to come yell at me I'm on tumblr at [thoughtlessblogger](http://www.thoughtlessblogger.tumblr.com)  
> Anyway, I just want to thank you all again for reading because it means so very much to me. Thanks!! I hope you all enjoy this last chapter.  
> All the love!

“What's going on with you and Harry?” Zayn's asking before Louis can close the door.

Zayn's alone, meaning Niall and Liam are running late, meaning there's no way for Louis to get out of this conversation even if he wanted to. He's been avoiding it for several weeks. Every time Zayn gets him alone he tries to get Louis to talk about it.

It's not that Louis doesn't want to talk about it with him; it's just that up until this point he didn't know how he felt or what he was really thinking. He still doesn't know, but he's got a clearer idea now.

“I don't know,” he says, letting the door fall shut. Shrugging off his coat, letting it fall to the floor, he adds, “You seem to be best mates with him now. You tell me.”

Zayn slaps him across the head, then turns on his heel and walks to his sofa. “It was one conversation. He was trying to convince us he didn't care about you.”

“How long did this conversation last? Because he seemed to have a pretty good read on you.”

Zayn turns back to face him as he grabs the throw blanket from the back of the sofa. “Wasn't very long. I don't like the bloke, but I wasn't going to let him leave without me-.”

“You have no reason not to like him,” he argues, grabbing the blanket from Zayn and throwing himself down on the sofa. He pats the cushion next to him while saying, “Enough about that. I need advice. Also, you helped save his life.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but settles down next to Louis. Taking the throw back from him, Zayn asks, “You actually going to listen to me this time?”

Louis rests his head on Zayn's shoulder. “We need to talk about Paris,” he sighs.

Zayn, to his credit, doesn't react outwardly. “I don't blame you, Louis. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“That's not what I'm getting at.”

“Oh.”

“I want to know how you feel about me and Harry, taking into consideration what happened in Paris.”

Zayn's quiet for a minute, contemplating his answer. What happened in Paris is difficult for him to talk about, difficult for him to think about, but Louis's asking and he knows Zayn will delve into again for him. Maybe Harry had a point to the whole friend thing.

Before Louis can delve deeper into _that_ Zayn's shifting a bit and speaking.

“I think it'd be almost impossible for you and Harry to be together.”

Louis's heart sinks even though he was expecting that. 

Since his talk with Harry the other day, Louis's been doing a lot of thinking. He does love Harry something fierce. And even if Harry does decide he can be with Louis after everything, Louis's not sure they could be.

“It'd be dangerous,” Louis says into Zayn's shoulder.

Zayn nods. “It'd be dangerous. For him, mostly, but also you. You'd never be able to have a normal life and if you decided to have children...”

He trails off. Louis knows what he was getting at. None of them can ever really have families. They'd be in danger. Even if Louis were to somehow quit this life, he'd still be in constant fear and he'd never be truly safe and he'd be putting Harry and any future family they might have in danger. The possibility of whatever future he'd wanted with Harry isn't as bright as he'd hoped.

“Look,” Zayn says, shifting around again. Louis lifts his head from Zayn's shoulder, so they can situate themselves on either end of the sofa, facing each other. “I tried,” Zayn's says once they're settled. “I tried to have a relationship with a normal person. You know how well that worked out.”

He does and the memories from Paris start floating back to him against his permission.

Zayn had met Perrie on the plane to Paris. Louis hadn't been involved then, so he doesn't know how it went down exactly. They'd been sitting next to each other, falling into conversation easily enough. Perrie was a student doing some sort of fashion course that had something to do with why she was in Paris – Louis never cared enough to ask the details. Zayn told her he was there “starting over”. Zayn once told him that he fell for Perrie immediately and that when the plane landed they hadn't questioned going “home” together, it had just happened. Zayn fell in love with her and once Louis came along it was very easy for him to tell how much in love they really were.

The problem was Zayn was never honest with Perrie about what he and Louis did for a living. For almost a year he lied to her and maybe things would have turned out differently had she known the truth, but as it is, Zayn hadn't been truthful and it ended up with Perrie dead.

Louis still remembers Zayn's panicked voice when he rang Louis in the middle of the night because Perrie was gone and there's no way she would have just left and there was blood on the floor of the kitchen. He still remembers the two panic and anxiety ridden days of trying to find out what happened. He remembers Zayn's face going white when he got the call telling him where Perrie was. He remembers walking into Zayn's bedroom to find that Zayn had snuck out to save her. He remembers going after Zayn and he remembers pulling the trigger, releasing the bullet that had ultimately killed Perrie and Zayn's frantic yelling and crying as Louis pulled him from her lifeless body afterward.

He remembers all that and more and he still sometimes wonders why Zayn didn't turn around and put in bullet through his head.

“Louis,” Zayn drawls out. “Stop thinking it was your fault.”

“It was, though,” he argues. “I pulled the trigger,” he adds quietly.

“You didn't know it would hit her,” Zayn points out. “You were aiming for the bad guy and he pulled her into it as you fired. Not your fault.”

Louis doesn't respond. They've argued about this a few times in the past. It always ends up the same way, Louis feeling guilty and Zayn missing Perrie. It's not what he's here for right now.

“Is that why you're so cautious when pulling jobs now?” he asks, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

Zayn nods. “I don't want more innocent people being hurt. It's probably why I didn't throw too much of a fit when I knew you were deliberately stalling the job. I knew you were trying to protect Harry.”

Louis closes his eyes. Breathing out, he says, “I'm not sure I can be with him.”

Zayn opens his mouth to respond, but he doesn't hear Zayn. He hears Liam instead. 

“The fuck you can.”

Louis whips his head around to see a serious Liam and a sheepish looking Niall standing just at the end of the hall.

“How much have you heard?” Zayn asks.

Liam shrugs. “Enough.” Then he's walking into the room, throwing himself into the armchairs across from the sofa.

Niall follows, settling himself on the floor by Liam's feet. “I'm not sure Liam realizes what you're saying,” he comments giving Liam an apologetic look. “Sorry, mate, but I think Louis's right.”

“It could work,” Liam protests.

Louis shakes his head. “I'm not sure it can,” he mutters. “He'd always be in danger. I don't want him to be in danger, but I also don't think I can handle worrying about him all the time. It'd be distracting when working.”

“And it'd be distracting while you were with him,” Zayn says softly. “You'd always be wondering if it were the last peaceful moment you'd have together before shit hits the fan.”

That's a point he hadn't considered. Zayn knows from experience, so it's something else to consider. He'd never be fully relaxed and there's only so much of that a relationship can handle.

“So you're saying he shouldn't ever have a relationship?”

Zayn shakes his head, fixing Liam with a look. “No. But I'm saying it'll be hard and he'll always be worried. I have experience with this Liam. I know.”

Liam slumps back, face smoothing out. “Okay, yeah, but if they really love each other -.”

“If they really love each other Harry will understand Louis's decision to not be with him,” Niall interrupts. “And if they really love each other Louis will not be with Harry to protect him.”

Zayn's nodding along the whole time Niall speaks, which is really doing nothing to actually help Louis.

“Liam,” he says. “How was it when you and Sophia were together?”

“Sophia and I were never a thing,” Liam replies, mouth set in a hard line.

It's a lie, one he's been telling for years. Louis thinks it's mostly because he doesn't want them to take the piss, but Louis also knows they had a weird relationship.

Sophia was very much like the rest of them in terms of career, but her reasoning behind it was different. Louis did it out of necessity, much like Zayn, and Liam because he was trying to prove a point. He's not sure why Niall does it, but he's sure Niall has a reason different than Sophia's “I just like the rush and the money helps” reasoning.

But Sophia could protect herself and her and Liam were sort of an on and off again couple for a few years whenever they'd be in the same city. Liam really did love her, that much was obvious. Louis was never completely sure Liam's feelings were returned, but Sophia kept showing up. Until she didn't.

According to Liam, it was a mutual decision, but he'd never go into details.

“But,” he continues slowly, “I was worried about her, yeah, all the time. I also knew she could take care of herself, but also, she put herself in danger all the time.”

“So you were constantly worried about her?”

“Okay. I might see what you all are saying,” he admits. “But you've got to try. You need to be happy.”

“I'm surprised you think he shouldn't do it,” Zayn says, eyes on Niall. “Is there a reason or not?”

Niall shrugs. “Harry'd be in danger all the time.”

“Aren't you risking Harry's life by being friends with him?” Liam inquires.

“I'm not working.”

The three of them freeze, watching Niall carefully as he explains.

“Look, if you three ever need help, sure, but I'm enjoying doing what I'm doing for Harry. I like that. I like the consistency and I like the people.”

Liam sits up in his chair, planting his feet on the ground. “You're quitting?”

“Yes. And I've given it a lot of thought so don't try to convince me otherwise.”

“What about the whole you can't get out once you're in thing?” 

Niall looks up at him from the floor. “Yeah, that's a point. But I've never pulled big jobs like you three unless I was with you three. Why do you think I asked you all to help that first time? I'm not comfortable with the big jobs and I don't need any more money. I want this and I'm going to do it. If someone comes after me they come after me. I'll deal with it then.”

They're silent again.

It's not to much a shock to Louis. He'd almost expected it. He did stay at Niall's for a month with him. He knew Niall enjoyed Harry and working for him, but he'd not known how much. Judging by the look on Liam's face he didn't know at all. Zayn, on the other hand, looks like he'd known.

“I think it's great, Niall,” he says. “Just, you know, be careful and all. And don't forget about us.”

Niall's eyebrows knit together. “I could never forget about you. What are you talking about? Like I said, if you all ever need a helping hand I'm there. You're like my brothers and I love you. Just because I'm quitting this thing doesn't mean I'm quitting you.”

“Niall,” Louis says, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “That was a great speech. Really touching.”

“Oh fuck off, Louis.”

There's another comfortable silence after that, which gives Louis time to think.

He's done a lot of thinking and he's not sure he's any closer to figuring anything out. He loves Harry, wants to be with him, but it's not good for Harry's safety. If he went to Harry right now and said he'd never be safe with Louis, he's sure Harry would tell him to stop being stupid and that it was worth it. Of course, this is just going on the chance Harry's forgiven him and actually wants to be with him.

But because he loves Harry, he doesn't want to put him in danger and how ever hard it would be for Louis to stay away, if that's what would ensure Harry's safety, Louis won't hesitate to do that.

 _Shit_.

He's just figured it out.

“Anyway,” Zayn's saying to him. “You need to be careful.”

“I know.”

“We want to see you happy,” Liam adds. “But, you know, you need to do you, but if it's also affecting Harry...” He trails off with a wave of his hand, then smacks Niall on the head.

“Ow!” Niall rubs at the spot Liam hit, glaring up at him. When he turns back to Louis, he drops his hand. “Harry'll understand if you decide not to be with him. It'll hurt, but it'll hurt you too. But we all know it's hard to have relationships in this world.”

“Do you have any idea what you're going to do?” Zayn asks, breathing out through his nose.

He considers telling them the truth. He doesn't.

“Not a clue,” he lies, putting his feet on the ground. “I think I need some more time on me own to think.”

The three of them are watching him with worried expressions, but they nod as he stands.

“I'll talk to you all soon,” he adds, giving a wave.

They don't try to speak to him as he leaves, which he's almost grateful for. They seem to know when he needs them to help or leave him alone. Most of the time they can all read each other's moods within a second. The more he thinks about the more Harry was right about the four of them.

He shakes his head. He doesn't have time to think about that. There's plenty of time for it, but not right now because he has to deal with Harry.

When he gets outside he's met with a familiar decision to make. Go to Harry's or go home. 

This time it only takes him half a second to make up his mind. He's got a plan and he needs to do this now before he chickens out and does something selfish.

**

Niall had told Louis the day before that Paul had succeeded in convincing Harry to stay in his house, which Louis was internally grateful for because he didn't have to go through any sort of process to find out where Harry was.

It's Paul that opens the door, which isn't surprising, but it has Louis a little wary. He hasn't seen Paul since they all almost died saving Harry and he's still sure Paul hates him, with good reason, but having to go through Paul to get to Harry isn't something he'd considered.

“Louis,” he grunts out, leaning against the door frame. Crossing his arms, he adds, “Surprised to see you up and moving around. Surprised to see you at all, actually. Didn't think you'd have the balls to come back here.”

Louis ducks his head. Paul hasn't told him to go away yet, so he takes a deep breath and looks back up.

“I can never apologize enough for what I did,” he begins, clasping his hands in front of him. “You should know, though, that my feelings for Harry were, _are_ real even when nothing else about me was.”

“I'm mostly upset about how you managed to fool me for that long,” Paul comments with a dry smile.

Louis smiles a bit at that. He's going to miss Paul. “Anyway, I do apologize and I'd continue apologizing until the day I die, but...”

He trails off, not knowing how to say this, if he even wants Paul to know first. He probably should, since he has a feeling Harry's bad mood will go unexplained if he doesn't.

“But you're not coming back?” Paul finishes with a raised brow. When Louis nods, he says, “Gotta say, lad, I'm not happy about what this is going to do to him, but I do know that he'll be safe without you around.”

It stings hearing someone else say it, but it's good to know Paul understands.

“I want him to be happy and safe,” he says. “I can't keep him safe if I'm around.”

Paul holds a hand up to stop him from going on. “You don't need to explain it to me.”

“I'd like to talk to him.”

“He's in his office,” Paul answers, stepping away from the door. “The upstairs one,” he clarifies after a beat. “Try to go easy on him.”

“I'll do my best,” he says, walking through the door. 

Paul shuts it, gives him a small nod and disappears down the hall to the security office, leaving Louis to seek out Harry on his own.

Harry isn't in his office like Paul said, but Louis follows the trail of open does through the office into the library to find Harry folded up in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace with a book.

There's not much light in here, most of it coming from the fire. Harry looks soft bundled up under the blanket and Louis almost changes his mind, almost runs over to him for a cuddle in front of the fire, but he doesn't. He needs to do this no matter how much it'll hurt them.

Louis's leaning against a book shelf, arms crossed. It's such a calm, relaxing moment. He doesn't want to ruin it, but Harry's closing the book with a thud and a sigh of “fucking stupid”. Louis watches as he sets the book on the table beside the chair and Louis wonders if he was reading it at all, but then Harry's standing up.

When he turns and looks up to see Louis watching him he freezes, eyes going wide. “Louis,” he gasps out, but makes no move to come near him.

They stand there, staring at each other, Harry looking like he's not sure Louis is actually here and Louis can't take it. Can't take the look Harry's giving him, knowing what Harry's thinking and there's no tension in the room, between them.

Louis has to ruin, obviously.

“A relationship between us could never work,” he rushes out, stepping away from the book shelf.

Harry blinks, brow furrowing. “Who said anything about a relationship between us?” he questions, but Louis can see the hope in his eyes that everything's going to end in them declaring their love for each other and happy ever after.

“I fell in love with you, Harry,” he says, taking a step forward. “I didn't mean too. I wasn't supposed to, but I did. And I still love you. And there's a possibility that I always will.”

He pauses to take a breath, but Harry's regarding him with caution and Louis's heart drops. It's harder than he thought, letting Harry go, but he has to do it.

“Why does this sound like it's not a good thing?” Harry asks slowly.

Louis shrugs. “It's not really.”

“What do you mean?”

For a brief moment, Louis considers giving up and letting the cards fall where they may, but he takes another look at Harry, the careful way he's regarding Louis, the way he knows Louis's not here for a good reason and Louis just loves him so much. So so much that he realizes again that this is what's best for Harry. Giving in won't be good for Harry in the long run.

“We can't be together, Harry,” he says quietly, looking away. It hurts to much to watch Harry's face fall. “You'd never be safe around me and I wouldn't be able to live knowing that at any second because of me you could get hurt. If something did happen to you it would kill me.”

“My own father put me in danger, Louis,” Harry says, taking Louis aback. It's got Louis looking up from the floor to see Harry's taken another step closer. “In case you've forgotten, what happened with Rodman was my father's fault.”

“Yes, but in case you didn't realize, Rodman lost his mind well before Des did anything to him,” Louis argues. 

Harry's trying. He's really trying to convince Louis otherwise, isn't he? He's going to try, Louis knew as much, but to actually sit here and watch Harry try to come up with good reasons as to why Louis is being stupid is hard. It's hard and it hurts more than it should.

“And I don't think you've got to worry about people like him anymore.”

“And you saved me from him,” Harry points out. He's talking slower than usual, really calculating his words, like he thinks saying the wrong thing will make Louis run. “In case that part escaped your mind. I wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for you. In fact, you saved my life several times.”

Louis nods. “I did, but if we're together, I'd only be putting you in danger.”

Harry crosses his arms, tightening his jaw. “I don't believe that.”

He lets out an amused laugh at that. “Harry I don't think you know how many people I've really fucked over in my life. I'm a wanted criminal, as well. There's always someone out to get me. I can't stay in one place for too long because of that.”

“So what?” Harry spits out. “Because you've fucked people over you can't be with me? That's fucking stupid.”

“I don't think you're listening to me. I-.”

“I don't think you're listening to me!” Harry yells, throwing his arms out. “I don't care about that. I want you and if that means-.”

“Don't say it,” Louis demands, holding a hand up. “Don't say you'd risk your life just to be with me. I don't need to hear that.”

“Would it change your mind?”

The truth is, it very well might, but, as Harry takes another step closer, Louis sees the scar above his eye and he can't let Harry get more scars, especially if they're because of him.

“No,” he answers. “My mind is pretty well set.”

Harry scoffs. “So I don't get a say?”

“No. I'm doing this to protect you.”

“Fuck off with that.”

Louis sighs, dropping his head. “I do love you.”

“Then don't do this,” he hears Harry plead. “Stay.”

Louis to his credit doesn't break down, but it takes a lot of self-control not to. “I can't. You'll never be safe with me. And I already told you that I can't give up this life.”

“Niall is,” Harry points out.

Fucking Niall. Has to make things more difficult for Louis even when he isn't fucking around.

“Not the same,” he says, shaking his head. “Niall wasn't as far into this as I was. And he'll still be looking over his shoulder every day. He's going to live in constant fear for the rest of his life. We all will. We do now. I don't want to be afraid for you. I don't want _you_ to be afraid.”

Harry's fighting back tears now. Swallowing hard, he admits, “I had actually just decided to find you so I could tell you that I was willing to try to look past what you did.”

Louis bites his lower lip. This is so much harder than he'd wanted it to be. He knew it would be hard, but god damn. Harry looks defeated, like he knows there's no point in arguing and all Louis really wants to do is hug him, tell him everything's going to be okay and sweep him off to some remote island in the Caribbean where they'll spend the rest of their lives.

“I'm sorry.”

Harry looks away. “I think you should go.”

He says it so quietly that Louis has to strain to hear it, but Harry did say it, stabbing the dagger deeper into his heart. It should be easier, that Harry's telling him to go, but he's got a sneaking suspicion that Harry has more to say, that he wants to say more, wants to argue and try to convince Louis otherwise. 

Louis nods. “Okay, but just know that I love you and I wish you the best.”

Harry still doesn't look up at him, so Louis turns his back and makes his way toward the door. It's as he's slipping through the door that he hears Harry's broken sob.

On his way out, Paul stops him, pulls him into a hug, whispers, “I'm going to miss you too. Now get out.” And Louis's heart isn't close to be okay.

**

He's not moping. He's _not_. He's just taking the appropriate amount of time to lick his wounds and set aside his heartbreak.

Also he's expecting Harry to show up at any minute to tell him to “stop being a twat and here's all the reasons we could work”. It's not guaranteed that Harry's going to show up, but Louis would bet good money on it.

It's as he's contemplating which plane ticket to buy when he hears someone at his door. His heartbeat skyrockets and he slams his laptop closed. Placing it on the table, he stands, taking a deep breath and walks toward the door.

It's Harry unsurprisingly, but it is surprising when he launches himself at Louis, making him stumble back as he catches Harry in his arms.

Harry pushes him into the wall, kicking the door shut, never once taking his lips off Louis's. It's a hard kiss, teeth clanging together at first, but Harry eventually slows it as he slides a hand into Louis's hair.

It's an emotional kiss, one that Harry's using to try to convey what he's feeling. It's painful emotionally and Louis wants to let it go on as his hands trail down Harry's sides, but it's not what they need.

He catches Harry's hands in his, pulling his mouth away. Harry tries to fight him, but he's able to slide out from between Harry and the wall. He's breathing heavy when he turns to face Harry.

“Harry we can't do this,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“You're a fucking idiot, Louis.”

“I know?” 

“We could make it work if we tried.” 

“No we couldn't.”

Harry sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “Yes we can. I want to. Why can't you just admit that you want to too?”

Louis shakes his head, taking a step backward. “That's not my problem. I do want to, but we can't. It's literally impossible.”

Harry snorts. 

“Do you know how dangerous it would be for you?” he begins, hoping this approach works. “For me? Do you know how dangerous it would be?”

Harry's face smooths out. He doesn't make a sound or move, so Louis guesses that's his cue to go on.

“When I'm out on a job and you don't answer your phone for whatever reason, I'll start panicking, even if it's something as simple as you being in an important meeting. I won't know that. And I'll worry. It'll distract me from what I'm doing and I could end up dead.”

Harry flinches, but again doesn't say anything, so Louis continues.

“It'd be dangerous for you because if someone wants to get back at me they'll come for you. I'll panic and that'll just be a disaster that would very potentially end up with us both dead.”

He takes a deep breath. “And god forbid we decide to have children.”

Harry's face transforms to understanding after that statement. His breathing has slowed and when he speaks it's barely above a whisper.

“There's no chance you could stop? Even for me, you wouldn't stop?”

His eyes are pleading and Louis's heart breaks even more under his gaze. 

“You can't ask me to do that, Harry,” he says. “And even if I did, there's still always going to be the possibility of someone from my past wanting revenge. Look at Rodman. It took years and your father dying before he struck.”

Harry throws his head back, groaning. “God.” He looks back down at Louis, tears in his eyes. “I love you.”

“I know,” Louis says. “And I love you, but we can't.”

“It's not fair.”

“I know.”

“I kind of hate you for this.”

“I know.”

With each sentence they've been getting closer and now they're nearly sharing the same breath. This close Louis can see how dull Harry's eyes look, how filled with tears they are.

He reaches up, carefully cupping Harry's jaw. He rubs a fallen tear off his cheek with his thumb. “This isn't easy for me,” he knows. “It's killing me, but I can't put you in danger like that.”

Harry nuzzles against his hand. “It's not bloody easy on me, either.”

“Harry,” he sighs.

He doesn't reply, just leans in and connects their lips. It's gentler than before as Harry cups the back of Louis's neck. Louis lets it happen, lets Harry kiss him, kisses back. It's slow and packed full of so much emotion that if Louis didn't have Harry's hands on him he'd probably run from it.

They kiss like that for a few minutes, standing in the middle of Louis's flat, before Harry breaks the kiss to breathe. He leans his forehead against Louis's and they stay there, breathing in each other's air, staring into each other's eyes.

“We shouldn't,” Louis says after a while, tightening his grip on Harry's waist.

“Please,” Harry whispers, mouthing along Louis's jaw. “One more time. Please. I think we deserve it.”

Louis tilts his head to the side to give Harry better access to his neck. “It'll make it harder.”

He feels Harry shake his head, curls tickling Louis's neck. “It's hard already,” he breathes out. “Please.”

He should definitely say no, but he's going to allow himself to be selfish because as much as he knows this is a bad idea, as much as he knows this will make things harder on them, he wants it as much as Harry. Wants to feel Harry's skin on his one last time. Wants to taste Harry one last time. Wants to know how Harry reacts to his touch one last time. 

He wants Harry one last time, while he can, before they walk out of each other's lives forever – for good this time.

“Yeah,” he says, not sure it makes sense with what Harry's said, but Harry's lightly biting at his skin and all he can think is “one last time”.

Harry moves away from his neck, pulls back completely, Louis's hands falling to his sides. “Please fuck me,” he says, voice deep and raspy.

Louis nods, reaching out for Harry's hand. When he gets it, he pulls Harry toward him. He _needs_ this. He needs to know what it's like to be with Harry one last time, what it's like to touch him, to have Harry touch him. He needs to memorize what Harry tastes like, how it feels to be inside him.

He kisses Harry, a bit harsher than before, but it gets Harry to shrug out of his coat, letting it fall to the ground around them. Harry breaks the kiss long enough to yank Louis's shirt off, dropping it to the ground.

“Shoes,” Louis mutters into his mouth. “Off. Take them off.”

Harry listens. He struggles to toe his boots off without letting go of Louis's waist, but he does manage it, keeping his mouth on Louis's the whole time. Once the shoes are off and he's pulled off his own shirt Louis starts moving them toward the bedroom, mouths and hands never leaving each other.

Harry allows Louis to push him onto the bed, Louis situating himself on Harry's hips as he leans down to kiss him again.

It's different this time, even different than the last time when Louis was positive he was never going to get this with Harry again because this time he knows one hundred percent for sure that he will never in a million years get this again. 

It's slow, but with a sense of urgency – hands trailing softly over each other's body, lips bruising, soft, quiet sounds coming from their mouths – and he's caught off guard when Harry flips them over.

“Thought I was fucking you?”

Harry gives him a pointed look. “In a while.” Then he's ducking down, pressing soft kisses down his neck, trailing them down his chest. He gets even softer about it as he kisses over the scars Louis has on his abdomen. Harry spends a lot of time there, hands running up and down Louis's sides.

“Always going to have these,” he mumbles into Louis's skin.

Louis's not sure if he's supposed to respond or what Harry's thinking, but yes. He will have those as a constant reminder of Harry and what had happened. Maybe that's what Harry's trying to get at there.

Instead of responding, Louis flips them back over, Harry letting out a little “oof” as he lands on his back. “You're going to let me do this,” Louis says as he leans down to kiss Harry more.

They're in a weird angle on the bed. Louis could definitely do what he wants, but it's not the best position and he wants the best position for this.

Placing one last kiss to Harry's mouth, he pats Harry on the side and pulls off. “Get undressed, you giant oaf,” he says, climbing off Harry and going to the bedside table for the lube and condom. He tosses them onto the bed as Harry's climbing up toward the headboard, laying himself down do his head is on the pillows.

Louis finishes getting undressed himself, but catching a glimpse of Harry sprawled out on the bed waiting for him makes him stop. Maybe they could make it work, he thinks. Harry's just so damn beautiful and such a lovely person. Except, those are the reasons they can't make it work. 

Harry deserves someone who's not putting him in danger. Someone who won't lie to him. He deserves someone much better than Louis. This has to be the last time – the last time they're together in anyway. After tonight they won't ever see each other again.

It's heartbreaking in a way that Louis's never experienced because they are in love with each other. Even if they have problems they do still love each other and it would be very easy to ignore the reasons why they shouldn't be together. It _would_ be so easy for Louis to whisk Harry off to a private island in the middle of the Caribbean, but real life would catch up to them eventually.

They could never be truly happy or safe. Harry deserves much better than that.

“Stop thinking and get over here,” Harry says, smiling at him.

Louis sighs, deciding to push away all those thoughts to just be in this moment – this last night with Harry. He climbs back onto the bed, pressing a quick kiss to Harry's mouth before situating himself between Harry's legs.

He goes about opening Harry up slowly, pressing kisses to the insides of his thighs, murmuring about how gorgeous Harry is between kisses. He's not sure how long he goes at it, but by the time he's finished Harry is a writhing mess beneath him, begging Louis to “just do something more”.

Louis presses one last kiss to Harry's thigh before positioning himself. He makes eye contact and keeps it as he slowly enters Harry. When Harry's adjusted he wraps his legs around Louis, ankles locking together. 

It doesn't take Louis long to find the right angle, Harry gasping out his name and clawing at his back as Louis bends to kiss him, while he fucks into him.

They're slow about it, kissing the whole time, breathing into each other, until they're both close. Louis's thrusting turns faster and more erratic and their kissing ceases so they're just breathing into each other's mouth. They keep eye contact as they come. 

Harry comes first as Louis jacks him off. Harry kisses him through his orgasm and well after until Louis has to stop. Pulling out, he collapses next to Harry breathing heavily and wondering how much time he has until this moment is ruined.

They've been laying in silence for a while, Louis on his side, tracing patterns into the skin on Harry's stomach, when Harry finally breaks it.

“We could make it work if we tried,” he says, staring up at the ceiling.

“You know I sleep with my gun?” he asks, looking down at Harry's face. His expression changes from mild content to confusion. “I'm always afraid someone's going to come for me while I'm sleeping so I keep it beside me on the bed.”

Harry stays silent, breathing slowly. Louis keeps tracing the nonsensical patterns on his skin. It's calming, gives him something to focus on, instead of the knowledge that Harry's going to be leaving soon and Louis will never see him again.

It's Harry that breaks the silence again.

“We could make it work if we tried,” he repeats, finally turning away from the ceiling. While his voice sounds hopeful, his face betrays him. He's lost hope. “I know you don't think we could, but I-.”

He's trying to convince himself as much as he's trying to convince Louis, which is painful to watch.

“Harry.”

“Sorry.” Harry turns back to the ceiling. “I thought about it after you left. I've been thinking about it for a while before that actually. I know you're right, but like, I don't want to know that.”

Louis sighs, stopping the patterns he's tracing. “I'm going to tell you something and you should take into consideration that I really shouldn't be telling you this because it's Zayn's story, but I was there and I was a major player in the end.”

“Is this about what happened in Paris?”

Louis nods. “Yes, but I think you need to know, so you'll understand why I feel this way. Hell, it might even make you run screaming from me.”

“I doubt that,” Harry snorts.

“You never know.”

Harry turns back to him, sad smile on display. “Louis you lied to me for months about who you were because you were planning on stealing from me and I'm here trying to convince you we could be together. I doubt this is going to change my opinion on you.”

Louis sighs, going back to tracing patterns on his skin. “Just listen to the story, okay?”

When Harry nods, Louis takes a deep breath, giving himself a moment. It's one thing to talk to Zayn about it – he'd been there, he knows – and a completely different thing to talk to Harry about it.

“On the plane to Paris, Zayn was sat next to Perrie.”

“Should I know who that is?”

“Don't interrupt,” Louis chastises, holding back his smile. “And no because that was the first time they met. She was a fashion student in Paris for some course, she'd told him.”

“What'd he tell her?”

“I said don't interrupt.”

“Just curious.”

“You're bad at letting people tell you things.”

Harry smiles at him. “Maybe if you sounded a bit more into the story.”

Harry's words drawl another sigh out of him. “Not a good story.” Harry's smile disappears as he nods for Louis to continue. “He told her that he was starting over. Apparently, she didn't question it, which was probably the first mistake they made. Their second mistake was falling in love.”

“It went bad?” Harry questions quietly, turning back to the ceiling.

Louis nods even though Harry can't see him. “It went bad. By the time I got involved they were living together and Zayn was lying to her every day about what he did for a living. He lied about how he met me, about who I was. Perrie never knew.”

He falls silent at that. He's never told another person this and the fact that he's about to tell Harry – Harry who he loves, who loves him – it's going to change things between them. Things have already changed, true, and he's still standing firm on them not being able to have a relationship.

“Zayn came home one night,” he continues. “Perrie was gone. There was blood. He rang me up in a panic and I rushed over there. I should mention that this was a big, dangerous job we were pulling. A lot of important, powerful, dangerous people were involved, right? I did my best to calm Zayn down, but two days passed and we hadn't found her. Any trace of her.”

Harry's been staring at the ceiling the whole time and when Louis breaks off he turns back to him. “What happened, Louis?”

Louis swallows hard. He can't bring himself to look at Harry, so he fixes his stare at the lamp on the bedside table. “Zayn got a call. Turns out, one of the people we were aiming to fuck over found out. One of the powerful, dangerous people. Said they had Perrie. Told him where to find her. It was very obviously a trap. I was naive enough to think Zayn would actually listen to me and wait for a plan, but he snuck out.”

“I'm not sure how much time passed between when he did and when I realized it, but I did go after him. I got there and I found Zayn unarmed and a man I didn't recognize holding a gun to Perrie's head.” Harry's breath hitches and it takes everything he has to go on. “They were the only ones in the room and I knew if I didn't do something they'd both be dead. It took a while, but staying hidden I was able to get a good enough aim to kill this guy.” He pauses, looking down at the hand resting on Harry's abdomen. “It didn't go down as well as I had hoped,” he adds. “I wasn't as hidden as I had thought. I guess the guy saw me when I let Zayn know I was there and as soon as I pulled the trigger he pulled Perrie in front of it.”

He keeps his eyes rested on his hand, ignoring the way Harry's gone stiff beneath him. “Killed her as soon as it hit. I, uh, didn't have much time to react to that, though, because the guy started firing at me and Zayn was clinging on to Perrie's body and crying. I'll never get that image out of my head. It was horrible, but I killed the guy, grabbed Zayn. He fought me. I had to force him to let go of Perrie because I could hear more people coming, but we got out and here we are.”

He waits a moment before he lets himself look at Harry. His eyes are glassy and he looks sad, not angry or disgusted like Louis had thought he would.

“Louis,” Harry breathes out. “That wasn't you fault.”

Louis shakes his head. “It was. I shouldn't have chanced that shot. I knew there was a chance it would go wrong. If I hadn't-.”

“Hey.” Harry cuts him off, reaches over and grabs Louis's hand, thumb rubbing calming circles into his skin. “You were trying to save your friend. It's not like you were aiming for her. And Zayn obviously doesn't blame you.”

“I think he did for a while,” he says, remembering how Zayn had disappeared immediately without a word, no contact at all for months. “Think he mostly just blamed himself, though.”

Harry hums. “Does he think if he'd been honest with her things would have turned out differently?”

“You know I actually don't know. I've never asked.”

“What do you think?”

Louis contemplates his answer. Maybe in the past he would have said if Zayn had been honest Perrie would still be alive, but now that he's experienced more and knows what could go wrong, he knows for a fact it wouldn't have changed a damn thing.

Perrie would still be dead and if that doesn't put the nail in the coffin on Louis's thinking about his relationship with Harry's he's not sure what would.

“She'd still be dead,” he says. He pulls himself up in a sitting position, angling his body toward Harry. “She could have known from the beginning and she'd still be dead. There was no chance of that ending up okay for them.”

Harry sits up as well, brow furrowed. “So, this is why....”

He trails off, letting Louis figure it out.

“Yes, this is why I don't want to risk anything with you.” He exhales loudly, reaching out to cup Harry's jaw with his hand when Harry tries to look away. “I don't want you getting hurt. And no matter how hard I try to protect you I'm not always going to be able to. Zayn tried. Zayn tried and it went to shit. It would've gone to shit even if he had been honest with her. I'm not going to let you risk your life to be with me.”

Harry closes his eyes, taking Louis's free hand in his. “I want to, though. I'm willing to. That has to count for something.”

“No it doesn't.” Harry opens his eyes, letting a tear escape. “I can't let you do it.”

“You shouldn't be so selfless all the time.”

“Love, this is the only time I've ever been selfless,” he replies. “Believe me, I'd much rather spend the rest of eternity with you right here, but it's not possible and it hurts.”

Harry breaks his head out of Louis's grasp, looking down at their intertwined hands. “This really isn't going to happen then.”

“You understand why, right? That I'm doing this to protect you?”

Instead of an answer, Harry lifts his head back up, wrapping his free hand around Louis's neck and pulls him into a kiss. It's soft and slow, like they've got all the time in the world and when Harry pulls back, he rests his forehead on Louis's.

“I do,” he says, his warm breath hitting Louis in the face. “But it doesn't make it hurt any less.”

“I know.”

Then Louis's surging forward, connecting their lips again. It's hard knowing this is their last time together, knowing this is the last time they'll ever kiss each other, see each other even. And while they're kissing tears are falling and Louis lets all his unpleasant thoughts disappear for the time being.

And Harry lets Louis hold him down as Louis fucks slowly into him for the second time that night. Neither of them saying anything other than the breathy moans of their names and whispers of “I love you”'s. 

When they're done and Harry thinks Louis's asleep, he leaves with a peck on the forehead and a whispered “I love you”, leaving Louis to cry into his pillow.

**

He'd texted Zayn after Harry left telling him to come over in the morning and to just let himself in. Zayn had replied asking if he needed him to come over right then. Louis'd been tempted to say yes, but he was still crying and forcing himself not to run after Harry, declaring that he'd made a mistake.

It hurt, letting Harry walk out of his life forever, but it needed to be done. Sometimes when you truly love someone you have to let them go. He's heard that somewhere before. He'd always thought it was stupid, but he gets it now. 

He loves Harry and had to let him go for his own safety, no matter how in love they were. It's shit and he's probably never going to get over Harry, probably never going to fall in love with someone else like he's fallen in love with Harry, but he definitely doesn't regret it.

After Harry left and after he'd cried for three hours he got up, grabbed his laptop and bought the plane tickets he'd been looking at before Harry showed up and then he cried for another hour.

He's been slowly packing his suitcase for the better part of two hours, running on virtually no sleep, when he hears the door to his flat open, then close, the sound of Zayn's boots shuffling down the hall following soon after.

He's standing at the foot of his bed, folding a t-shirt when Zayn steps in, pausing in the doorway.

“You're leaving,” Zayn notes, voice soft, as his eyes scan the room. They linger on the suitcase for a moment before he looks up at Louis, with realization. “You're leaving him.”

Louis places the shirt in the suitcase, then turns back to his dresser. 

“You actually made the decision to leave him,” Zayn continues. “I didn't think you'd be able to.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes you have to do things you don't like doing,” Louis mutters, grabbing a pile of clothes and walking back to the bed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Zayn take another step into the room. “How'd Harry take it?”

Louis snorts. “Not well, but I think he understands. Doesn't make it any easier.”

“Of course it doesn't. You love each other.” Zayn pauses, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He's got a leg under him and he's turned to face Louis, so he sees the sad look that passes over his face. “You told him about Perrie.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Let me ask you something,” Louis says, waiting for Zayn's nod before he continues. “Do you think if you had told Perrie the truth she'd still be alive?”

Zayn purses his lips, humming quietly. “Depends on how she would have reacted to it, you know? Like if she had accepted it and stayed with me I think she'd still be dead.” He pauses, ducking his head. Letting out a deep breath he looks back up. “I think there'd be a chance she'd still be alive if I'd told her and she did the sensible thing of running from me as fast as possible.”

“But?” Louis prompts.

“But you know how it is. When you've pissed someone off bad enough they'll go after whoever they can. I loved her, Louis. I can't imagine how that would be. If for whatever reason someone decided to get back at me and went after her. If she had had a family. Imagine what that would have been like.”

Louis nods. “I see what you're saying.”

“In a lot of ways I think it was better that it happened the way it did,” Zayn continues. “Just because it didn't hurt anyone but me. And her family of course, but there are no kids growing up without a mother because of me, so. Maybe it's selfish to think that way.”

“It's not.”

He shrugs. “Well, anyway. Point is, I don't know what would have happened to her, but she had already come into my life. We had already fallen in love. She would have always been in danger because of me. Much like Harry's going to be.”

Louis about breaks his neck to turn away from his dressed to stare at Zayn. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean that you've already been with Harry. If someone wants to hurt you badly enough they could still go after him. It's a small possibility, but it is there.”

He's right, which doesn't make Louis feel better. In the back of his mind he knew that even if he leaves Harry he'll still be in danger, but he refused to admit it to himself because he knows if Harry had known that he would have fought harder for them to stay together, which would have made it so much easier for Louis to have said “fuck it” and stayed.

It's better this way. Harry would be in a lot more danger if Louis stayed. At least this way the danger is being kept to a minimum.

“You'll keep an eye on him then?”

“Two eyes. As often as I can,” Zayn answers, nodding.

Zayn falls quiet at that, watching as Louis goes back to packing his things. It's odd, this feeling that Louis has. He's technically only leaving Harry, but it feels like he's leaving the others as well.

“Do Liam and Niall know?”

Louis shakes his head. “I was hoping you'd tell them.”

“They won't be happy.”

“I'm not leaving you three,” he points out.

“Still won't be happy.” After a pause, he asks, “What time does your flight leave?”

Louis looks at his watch. “About two hours.”

Zayn nods, giving Louis a once over. “I'll never understand why you insist on traveling in a suit.”

“Makes me look important.”

“Yes, but you always complain about being uncomfortable.”

Louis places the last piece of clothing into his suitcase and closes it closes with a small click.

“Think you can watch this place for me?” he asks as he grabs the suitcase. “Not let Niall move in and dirty the place up,” he adds, pulling the suitcase off the bed.

Zayn stands and follows him out the door. “Thought you had a maid for that.”

“I do, but she's afraid of Niall.”

“Nobody's afraid of Niall.”

“You should meet Amelia.”

When they reach the door, he sets the case down, turning to Zayn, who's leaning against the wall, arms crossed and watchful eyes trained on Louis.

“I expect to hear from you,” he says. “Don't disappear forever.”

And the way he says it has Louis's heart crumpling because he does need to take a break, get away from London, away from Harry. But he is going to miss his home, his friends.

Zayn must be able to tell because he pushes himself off the wall and envelops Louis in a hug. “You're going to be fine,” he whispers into his ear. “It'll hurt less as time goes on and at least you've got the knowledge that he's alive and safe.”

Louis doesn't remind him of the conversation they just had because that would only serve to upset himself even more, so he wraps his arms around Zayn's waist and squeezes. Zayn's right. It won't hurt like this forever. If Zayn can come back from what happened in Paris, he can come back from this. 

And even if Harry will always be in some sort of slight danger because of him Harry is alive now and that's all that matters.

“Thanks, mate,” he whispers back.

When they break apart, Louis grabs his suitcase again. As he opens the door, he turns back to Zayn. 

“If you're ever in St. Petersburg anytime soon, look me up,” he says with a smile.

Zayn cocks an eyebrow at him. “You're going to Russia?”

Louis laughs. “No. Just wanted to say it.”

“Twat.”

Louis lets his smile fall. “Seriously, though, I will be in Singapore in case you need me. Though, try not to. I don't want to pull another job with you anytime soon.”

Zayn smiles, showing that he understands. “Want a lift to the airport?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Got a car waiting.”

“Be careful, Louis,” Zayn says. “I – we Love you, so don't do anything stupid.”

Louis nods and says, smiling, “I won't.”

Then he's slipping through the door of his flat for the last time.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thank you for reading!!  
> Come find me on tumblr at [thoughtlessblogger](http://www.thoughtlessblogger.tumblr.com)


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